With Each Passing Day
by The Atomic Cafe
Summary: Clips from Mac's life from the time he moved to New York and on.
1. Give Us Time

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

1990

Claire drew the curtains as the sun started to set. Snow had started to fall in Chicago already, leaving the roads a dirty grey as cars packed it into the ground. She didn't have the courage to look at the thermostat, but she supposed that it had to be somewhere in the twenties or thirties. The days seemed longer than the winter usually allowed, and she was glad to be home.

Sitting on the bed, Claire pulled off her heels, tossing them at the foot of the bed. She stood, lifting the bottom of her skirt enough to pull off her pantyhose. She tossed those on top of her shoes, then sat back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The curtains weren't enough to block out the light, so she watched the reflection of the cars drift across the ceiling lazily, slowly.

The door creaked open, then shut again. Claire didn't bother looking up. "Hey, sweetie."

Mac drifted into view, looking down at her. He bent forward, kissed her forehead, then sat down next to her. "Hey." She felt the sheets move slightly as he laid down beside her. Both had been up by five that morning, and she knew that neither wanted to stay awake for much longer.

"What do you want for dinner?" she asked, then yawned.

"Something that doesn't involve me doing anything." Mac smiled at her, closing his eyes.

Claire playfully elbowed him. "Hey, you get to do the work today." She put an arm around his chest, turning slightly so that she could rest against him. "Wanna get take-out?"

"No more phones," Mac sighed, touching a hand to her arm. "Only if you call."

"Hmm." She repositioned herself, trying to tuck her head under his chin. "Fine. In a minute. What did you do today?"

"I got the mail."

She grinned. "Busy day, I suppose. No wonder you're so tired. What was there?"

"A very special letter." Mac sat up, letting Claire slide off him and grab a pillow from behind them before sitting up. From his pocket, he pulled out a wrinkled envelope. Claire noticed the logo in the corner with the initials 'NYPD' on it. She raised her eyebrows. Mac gave her a smile and tore open the top of it. He took his time unfolding the letter, making Claire bounce on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.

Once Mac skimmed it, he folded the letter back up and put it back inside the envelope. Claire leaned in, eyebrows still raised. "What's it say?"

He put the envelope down on the ground by her shoes. "I heard the World Trade Center is a nice place to work."

Claire smiled uneasily. "You got it?" He nodded, smiling widely. She echoed his movement, nodding slowly. "Wow. That's - that's great, Mac."

Mac watched her carefully. "You're not happy," he stated simply.

She shook her head. "No! It's just - Well, wow. I didn't think we'd be going this soon." At Mac's look, she folded her legs together and waved her hands at imaginary objects as she spoke. "I just didn't think I'd have to leave my job now. There's so much to pack. We need to find a place over there. Everything has to -"

Mac grabbed her hands in his, much as he always had to comfort her. Claire always liked the feel of his hands - rough like a man who worked, but not uncomfortable rough. He held them close to him, carefully kissing her knuckles the way that always seemed to make her forget everything that bothered her.

"Do you want to go?" he asked softly.

Claire hesitated. She loved cities, whether it be Chicago or New York. It wouldn't be hard to find a job in New York, but it would be hard enough to even _get_ there. She had already spent her whole life close to Chicago….

She compromised by shrugging. "If you're -"

Mac shook his head. "No, Claire. I'm asking you. We can stay right here or move out to New York whenever you want to."

The two had already had this discussion, and both of them were thinking about it. Mac had been offered the job months before. He didn't dare give a second look at the letter until Claire had the chance to look at it, consider everything, plan ahead. She had hesitated then, even, but urged Mac to go on and accept.

Claire made a light nodding gesture. "I already agreed to this, Mac." She gave him a desperate sort of smile, as though joking that she was stuck to her old words. "Don't want the New York police after us now."

Mac smiled at her, then leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. Claire kissed him back, trying to hold onto him for as long as possible. She loved to kiss Mac. Since the first day they had ever met, he hadn't even begun to strike her as romantic, and he never did seem at all like a romantic except for those few odd days when he'd come home with a rose in his hand for her. He carried on his kisses, though, like he was the Casanova of the world, where his kisses could shape the future and break empires. They were never hard kisses, but always powerful.

As they kissed, her mind wandered around the world, trying to figure out what needed to be done. Once Mac put a hand against her shoulder, forcing her back against the bed, her mind seemed tethered to where they were, on that bed. She was left with only the sounds of their breathing and the exhaust of the cars outside. The lights that flashed behind her eyelids. The taste of Mac. His weight on her.

Her worries slowly ebbed away.

Mac broke off, lying against her in the bed. "What did you say you want for dinner?"

Claire faced him and grinned. Mac looked completely clueless. "I'll call for pizza," she answered. "That should give us half an hour, right?"


	2. Only Gets Better

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

Chicago seemed dwarfed compared to New York now. Claire stood outside of the busy Manhattan apartment, looking at the brilliantly blue-grey, smog-filled sky and listening to the rush of the early-morning traffic. She was glad that the sounds seemed to be muted inside, and at least the furniture was mostly in place already.

Mac opened the door for her, letting Claire slide into the car. He shut the door after her and got into the driver's seat.

They already had the conversation of a car in New York. Neither could honestly see the point to it, but Mac eventually convinced Claire that it was a way to get around without the lines. Claire only smirked and didn't bother to mention the traffic.

Mac put the car into drive, steering carefully into the busy stream of metal and noise. Claire leaned forward and turned on the radio, looking for a station. She settled on one that had Elvis playing "Gonna Get Back". "_Never thought I'd miss her so…_" She bit down hard, staring out the window.

"You alright?" Mac asked, glancing over to her. Claire nodded. "Nervous?"

She snorted. "Yeah, I'm terrified of the same job I've been in for a long time." Claire raised her eyebrows. "And you?"

"Not at all." Mac smiled. "It's nice to be able to go in and already be the boss."

"And did they tell you what happened to the last boss?" Claire asked in an innocent voice.

Mac grinned. "Let's not even go there."

They sat in silence, listening to Elvis sing to them in a slow, loving voice for another song. Claire always liked the sound of his voice, everything from the "Thank ya, thank ya very much" to the romance songs and the songs that still depressed her.

Her eyes were closed as she mouthed the words once they reached the World Trade Center.

"Ready?" Mac asked.

Claire jumped, looking around, seeing where they were. She was torn between yelling at Mac for disturbing her and asking him to join her in singing the song.

"Yeah," she answered instead. She pulled down the visor of the car, opening up the mirror to look at her reflection. She smoothed back an unruly curl. "Yeah, I'm good."

Mac smiled at her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. Claire turned and caught his lips. When they pulled apart, Mac smiled. "Don't wanna be late," he told her.

Claire nodded, said goodbye to him once more, and got out of the car. Mac waited there as she walked up to the building. Once she neared the door, she heard Mac drive away.

Instead of going inside, Claire took a few steps back. From her point of view, at the very base of the buildings, she couldn't even see the top. The sun burned at her eyes whenever she tried to look at the very top story, and she eventually had to turn away, feeling very small in the city, then entered the building.

(With Each Passing Day)

Mac stood outside the narcotics and toxicology lab, looking over the half-written reports. He hated coming in halfway through a case to utter confusion, but it was a job that needed to be done.

A woman exited the door nearest to him, looking around the hall. She had brown curls to her shoulders that looked untamable, but still neat. Mac glanced up, looking her over for a moment. She wore a white lab suit over what looked like a dark red shirt.

"Mr. Taylor?" she asked, glancing at him, searching him as he had to her. "Is that you?"

Mac nodded and held out his hand. "Mac, if you want."

She smiled at him, shaking his hand briefly. "Stella Bonasera." She held up a piece of paper. "These are the results for the -"

"Douglass case?" Mac asked, taking the paper when Stella nodded. He glanced at the name on the top, then browsed down the columns. Perfect. "Thank you, Stella."

Stella nodded, still looking him over closely. "You're the new head of the lab, right?" Mac nodded. "Mm. Have you been around the lab yet?"

"Only after I applied. I've been trying to get used to it again now." Mac smiled.

"That's not the same as going around the lab." Stella pulled her mass of hair back and tied it into a ponytail. "I don't have anything on my queue right now. I'll introduce you to everyone."

(With Each Passing Day)

Claire kicked her shoes out of the way as she carried a box across the bedroom. There was still too much to unpack. It would take at least a week for her to finish putting everything away, and she knew that she couldn't lift a few of the boxes without Mac's help.

"Claire?" She looked over he shoulder to see Mac come in, his keys jingling in his hand. He stepped carefully over the boxes to get to her. She leaned in to kiss him, but Mac grabbed the box out of her arms. "Unpacking already?" He kissed her quickly and set down the box.

"They aren't unpacking themselves," she answered, trying to take the box from him. Mac held it down and cut the tape at the top with his keys, then pulled out a lamp, which he waved at Claire.

"Need any help?"

Claire nodded, wiping her forehead. Mac followed the cord into the box, digging the end of it out. He finally placed it on the nearby table and carefully plugged it in. He stood back, glancing at it, then dug into the box again.

"I was waiting for you at the Towers." Mac pulled out a small clock and put it next to the lamp.

"Felt like taking the subway." Claire smiled at him. "Always wanted to take one in New York." She brushed back her hair. "How was your day?"

Mac nodded. "Good. Already working on cases and everything. I'm not used to it moving this fast."

"Crime has to move fast here, I guess." Claire folded back the edge of the box, digging into it with Mac.

"True." Mac kneeled, trying to take out as many objects as he could without upsetting any. "A girl from narcotics showed me around and introduced me to a few of the people."

"Ah."

When Mac didn't hear more of a response, he glanced up at Claire. Her pale face was flushed and her blonde hair hung in untidy curls around her cheeks. She wore an old shirt now with jeans instead of her work clothes. Claire didn't look up at him.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Pretty nice. My boss, Andrew, mainly showed me around, told me about how to work things out there." She looked up, and her green eyes looked bright. "It's an amazing building. So many people, all of them moving and moving all the time." She waved her hand for emphasis. "It takes forever to get to the higher floors because everyone's on the elevators and on the stairs."

Mac loved how Claire spoke about the city. It was obvious that she had a respect for motion and crowds, something that Mac couldn't understand from the simple girl he was so used to seeing.

"Only gets better, right?" Mac asked.

Claire nodded. "Only gets better from here."


	3. Toasting A Declaration

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

Mac groaned as he woke up, then slowly opened his eyes. Something didn't feel right. He took a quick survey of his surroundings, noticing the boxes around the room. _Not the bedroom. _It took him a moment to realize that _this_ was his new living room.

Claire had an arm around his shoulder and one curled up around her face. She laid over him, covering his body with hers. Mac reached up to stroke her hair slowly, enjoying the feel of the rise and fall of her chest on his. His neck hurt like hell from a night on the couch, but it was worth it.

Since moving, nothing had seemed right. Right then, with the sun just low enough that Mac didn't need to squint through it and the clock set just far enough back that work didn't even cross his mind, he wanted to run back to Chicago, where life was settled and ordinary.

"Claire?" he whispered into her ear. She didn't move. "Darling?" Still nothing.

Mac gently moved her hand, taking it off his shoulder and folding it down by her other hand. He moved slowly and carefully, trying not to wake her as he got up off the couch. Claire remained asleep. Mac stretched out his arms and legs, doing his best to ignore the growing pain in his neck. He walked to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he noticed the boxes in there.

Working bit by bit, Mac unpacked another box, carefully putting the dishes away without making enough noise to disturb Claire. She turned a little in her sleep, something that Mac couldn't help but watch. _Don't wake up yet. Not quite yet._

He eventually compromised by walked out and picking up Claire under her shoulders and knees. Mac had to thank himself for years in the Marines and marrying such a small woman. He kept his grip firm as he carried her into the bedroom. After stepping over items spilled around the room from their attempt as unpacking the night before, Mac put Claire on the bed, fixing her hair so that it didn't tug behind her neck, then planted a kiss on her forehead.

(With Each Passing Day)

The wave of an ocean washed over her like a blanket, shielding her from the warm air. She wanted to feel the sun's light kisses on her, experience the warm day. The winter had been to long and she felt like a lazy bear. Warmth. That was the perfect cure.

She stretched, feeling the grains of sand manipulate to fit her body like a well-worn blanket. Perfect comfort. Nice mattress. Better than a mattress. She could move again and again, feel the water over her in a perfect curve, see for miles down the edge of the shore. Birds swooped around the sky lazily, squawking before they plunged into the ocean.

The sun's flares seemed to intensify, bleeding fire onto the earth. She wanted to stand up, run away from it, but the water kept a comfortable grip on her that seemed to tighten as the fire grew too warm to tolerate.

Then an arm reached over her waist, holding her still. She looked up the arm to see him beside her, his green eyes closed as he kept her down. The fire seemed cooler, just a bare tickle on the ground around them.

"Keep still," he whispered to her with a piece of velvet for a voice.

Claire obeyed him, knowing that he was safe, something to trust. The world burned to ashes around them, but they were fine.

The flames fell over the sand, creating a haunting display of lights. When they got too close, Claire gasped and woke up.

Claire took a deep breath, sitting straight up in bed and looking around the room to find the clock. She finally found it and saw that it wasn't even six yet. Time to spare. She sat up, yawning, then stepped off the bed onto the cold floor. _Pat, pat, pat_. She smiled as she heard her feet on the ground and thought of a little kid walking down the hall at Christmas.

Christmas two years ago, she remembered. Chicago. Snow. Freezing temperature. Her niece and nephew visiting with her sister. Little Anna and Greg giggling as they tried to hide their presents behind the rest of them. Charlotte, who looked nothing like Claire, no matter how closely they were related, trying to pull them away. Mac giving Claire a silver necklace with a diamond snowflake.

Claire took a deep breath and tried to smell the eggnog. Somehow, she thought she could.

"I thought we had fallen asleep in the living room but I guess I was just dre- oh, _Mac_." She froze as she got into the living room, looking around with bleary eyes to see Mac holding a cup of orange juice in one hand and tugging at the glass door onto the balcony with the other. "What're you trying to do?"

"Surprise you," he answered, tugging at the door once more. "Guess it wasn't working, though."

She grinned and walked up to him, looking over the door until she found the problem. "Darling, you have to _lift_ the bar before the open the door." Claire kneeled, tugging up at the security bar and pressing it back against the doorframe. "They slide closed easily. Now, what were you -"

Mac pulled open the door, letting Claire walk out first. Her footfalls muffled on the cement of the balcony as she looked at the table outside. It was the white one that they had bought right after moving, just for the balcony. Mac had out two plates with breakfast on them as well as a vase with a single lily in it.

Claire raised an eyebrow, failing to keep the smile off her face. "Did I have sex with you that I just forgot?"

Mac laughed and gave her a gentle push towards one of the seats. Claire sat down as Mac placed down the glass of orange juice. "Not quite."

"Then this is a thanks for the six good years I've supplied you," Claire answered, picking up her glass. Mac laughed again and clinked his glass against hers. "Cheers."

"Cheers," he echoed. "I think I deserve some credit in this toast, though."

"Of course." Claire hit her glass against his again, grinning widely, then drank. "I'd kiss you for this, but you caught me with my kryptonite."

"Pancakes, maple syrup, and orange juice." Mac smiled. "The reason I managed to get you to marry me."

"_Extra_ maple syrup. Otherwise you would have gotten the pink slip after dating." Claire picked up her knife and fork. "And the balcony. That really helped."

"Always does." Mac lifted his glass in a toast again, still grinning.

Smiling at how happy he looked, Claire still couldn't help but feel confused. "Really, Mac. What's all this about?"

Mac kept a small smile on his face, then picked up his own knife and fork.

She could already tell that he wasn't going to answer, but he still did.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked quietly.

Claire smiled. "Was I supposed to doubt that? Maybe when I see another woman's underwear in our bed, I will, but I haven't yet."

"Then I've been hiding the evidence." Mac grinned and leaned forward. Claire has already mastered the art of catching Mac's kiss, and looked up in time to get the kiss on the lips.

"Love you," she whispered back.

"Good," Mac answered, the smile still not leaving his face. "I broke one of your plates this morning."

Claire raised her eyebrows. "Then that's the last time you're getting a declaration of love on a balcony, darling."


	4. Exhaustion In the Purest Form

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

Their eyes met as papers switched hands between the two coworkers. Stella gave Mac a small smile, then shrugged in the direction of the lab. "Need anything else processed?"

Mac looked down at the results and sighed. No sign of drug use in the victim. There went the suspect and motive. "Not yet. I'm going to look over the evidence once more and see if there's anything we missed."

"Need help?" she asked. Mac looked at Stella, confused, but didn't answer yet. "I know that I'm only good for a little bit of evidence but…" Stella raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "I've always been interested in the actual detective part."

He considered her for a moment. It wasn't unusual for people to leave their departments to help around in other areas, or at least it wasn't in Chicago. "Sure. Extra eyes help."

Stella grinned and carefully pulled off her lab coat. Mac looked and was interested to see that she wore a dressy suit under the coat, something that he hadn't seen from any of the lab techs yet. He averted his eyes, though, knowing that nothing good would come out of him looking at her clothes.

She seemed to have noticed his eyes, but she didn't comment. Her only response was a small smile as she started to follow him towards the evidence room. Even as they spoke about the case on the way, Mac kept his eyes far away from her.

You've done a stupid thing, Taylor, some voice whispered in his ear. _A very stupid thing._

some voice whispered in his ear. 

He picked up the evidence box, looking over the packages with red tape around the folds and edges. Big bag of clothes, several small bags of trace, fingerprints, a see-through bag with the empty pill bottle that came from the bedside of the victim. With a quick glance at Stella, he started towards his office.

Stella jumped forward a few feet when they reached his office, holding open the door for him. Mac muttered a quick thanks and got in, setting the box down on the table. Stella followed him, letting the door swing closed.

Standing on one side of the desk, Mac started to unpack the box, looking at each bag as he went. Stella looked around them for a moment, not touching anything yet.

"Is this your wife?"

Mac glanced up, seeing that Stella had bent enough to look at a picture on his desk. It was a picture of Claire that couldn't have been more than a year old.

Stella straightened up. "Sorry. I just noticed - wedding ring." She pointed at his hand. "Just assumed -"

Mac nodded. "That's her. Her name's Claire."

"She's pretty." Stella smiled and looked up at Mac, then down to the evidence. "What do you we have here?"

(With Each Passing Day)

The phone rang close to eleven at night. Mac blinked tiredly, reaching out for the phone. "Taylor."

"Mac?"

Mac glanced at Stella, who looked back down at the photographs from the crime scene, looking concentrated on them as she wrote down a few notes in her notebook.

"Hey, Claire." Mac rubbed his forehead.

"Are you still at work?" Claire sounded tired but worried. Mac glanced at the clock and felt a surge of guilt.

"I'm sorry. I just -" Mac sighed and turned his chair to the side so that he didn't face Stella. "I just got wrapped up in a case. I'll be home soon."

"Alright." Claire was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I've seen you do this before, Mac. Just - just come home soon, alright?"

"Yeah."

"Love you," Claire prompted.

"Love you, too." Mac smiled to the phone, said goodbye, then hung up.

Stella looked up at him. "Do you need to go?" She reached behind the chair for her jacket, keeping her hand there, prepared to go.

Mac nodded and looked over the evidence. "Maybe we should start putting this back. It's late already. Better get some sleep for tomorrow."

Stella nodded and closed the notebook. "I think we'll have it all tomorrow."

"That's good." Mac smiled as he started replacing the bags into the evidence box. "We just need to finish printing off the reports after that, and we'll have all the proof we need."

"I never knew that detective work was this much… well…" Stella smiled. "Fun, I suppose."

"After a hundred cases, it's not as fun." Mac laughed quietly and closed the box. "Always a challenge, and that's the fun part." He picked up the box. "I'll run this back down."

As he left the office, holding the door open, he turned off the lights. Stella walked a few steps past him, then followed him down the hall. Mac pulled down his keys with his free hand, then unlocked the door into the room. The desk had a gate over it which he opened, slipping the box inside before closing it again. The man at the desk would put it back into its place the next morning.

"Thanks," Mac said, smiling at Stella.

She ran a hand through her hair and let it stay there. "No, thank you. I've always considered changing to a detective status."

"You'd be well qualified." Mac shut the door after them and looked around at the empty hall. Night shift would be in the labs now, but he didn't see a light from where he stood. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night." Stella gave him a last smile before walking off in the direction of the parking lot. Mac remained in the hall for a moment before following her outside.

(With Each Passing Day)

Mac quietly crept into his bedroom, leaving the door open because he knew that even that sound could wake Claire. He slipped out of his shoes and clothes, pulling out a shirt and pajama pants that he slipped into with as little sound as possible.

When he slipped into bed under the covers, he saw Claire's head move. "Hey," she whispered, her voice laced with sleep.

"Hey." Mac leaned over and kissed her forehead. Claire didn't move to catch his lips, but put her head back down on the pillow. "Sorry I'm late."

Claire breathed in deeply, moving her arm over Mac's chest. "It's alright," she whispered. "I was just worried about you." She moved closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. Mac curled an arm around her.

Mac closed his eyes, rubbing her back with one hand and trying to breathe deep. He was tired, of course, but something wouldn't let him sleep.

"What were you doing?" Claire asked.

"Finishing up a case." Mac shifted the pillow so that it wasn't bent against the headboard. "We almost have it figured out. By tomorrow, it should be in court."

"Who're you working with?"

"Stella, the girl from narcotics. She was interested in working on a crime scene, and I couldn't see any answers."

He felt as though a weight were taken off his chest as he spoke. There was nothing, he felt, that warranted that grief. Once he looked at Claire's face through the dark, though, he understood why, and he felt his chest tighten again.

"She good at it?" Claire asked quietly.

Mac nodded, keeping his movements shallow and soft. "She is. She's a nice girl and smart, too. Wants to apply to be a detective sometime soon." He felt her breath catch in her throat and knew that he had said something wrong. Barely thinking, he wrapped his other arm over her shoulder, planting another kiss on her forehead. Claire struggled and sat up, staring down at him.

"Don't start that," she whispered harshly.

"What?" Mac pushed the covers off, sitting up to meet her eyes.

"Every time you do that -" Claire hissed, shoving the covers off of her legs fiercely. "Every time you say something you didn't want to say, you try to make it up with a kiss! Don't think you're doing it again!"

Mac met her gaze. "What am I doing?"

Claire breathed deeply and her voice sounded broken. "You don't come to bed and talk about your coworker, then kiss me." He could see her close her eyes and sigh, her body tense. "Just - please don't do that, Mac."

"I never thought you were that jealous -"

Claire hit a fist against the pillow. "Don't use that word!" she hissed again, her words cutting through the dim night. "I'm not jealous of anything because there's _nothing_." She shook her hands, looking for words, trying to calm herself. "I'm not being jealous. I'm trying to make you understand that you can't do that with me."

Mac grabbed her shoulders, but Claire shook herself out of his grip.

"I'm not trying to do anything or imply anything," Mac answered, fighting to keep his voice even. He watched Claire as she tried to find something else to look at, anything but his eyes. "I'm not trying to do anything. You asked, and I answered. I'm not a liar, and I won't hide the fact that I have a female coworker."

Claire laughed, but it wasn't the same laugh Mac was used to. "If it was the fact that she was female that bothered me, I'd have forced you to quit every job you've had a long time ago. Just listen to how you're talking about her."

Mac's mind jumped to the day with Stella, the way he remembered looking at her, each detail he remembered about her.

Slowly, Mac reached out to grab Claire's shoulders again, his hands only shaking a little as he found her arms, embracing them slowly. Claire sniffed, then fell forward into his chest, head bowed against his.

"I'm sorry, Claire," Mac whispered. He held her tight, breathing in her shampoo. "I'm sorry."

"What's she look like?" Claire asked hoarsely.

"Does it matter?" Mac felt Claire slowly relax, then held her still, slowly sinking back into the bed. Once he felt the pillow against his head again, he kissed her gently, again and again, whispering to her whenever he couldn't feel her flesh against his lips. Claire let out a shaky breath that he knew she had been holding.

By midnight, both were pleasantly tired.

some voice whispered in his ear. 


	5. The World Crashes Twice

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

The second bomb dropped only a few hours later.

Mac looked over his own scrawling handwriting contrasted to Stella's small and sharp writing. They had written over each other, crossing out something the other thought, adding in their own view and proof. He slowly read over all of the notes, glad to be awake enough to understand them all. At points, he would cross out or circle another section and add in new notes. The case was close to being solved.

Mac heard a knock at his door and saw that it was Stella. She wore her lab coat again as well as a smile. "I fell asleep the second I got home," she told him as she opened the door. "Does everything still make sense?"

He nodded, staring down at the notes as he spoke. "I think they do. Just need to run the last of the evidence through the lab and sent it out."

"I'll do it." Stella stepped closer to his desk. "Box is down in the evidence room, right? What's the case number?"

Mac turned the folder, reading off the numbers from the stamp on it.

"Alright." Stella didn't move away and seemed to shift her weight. Mac looked up at her at last, seeing her nervous expression. "Anything wrong?"

Mac watched Stella, amused at how uncomfortable she could look when she had entered the office with the air of owning the lab. "Not at all. Just - just thinking about the case."

His mind was still wrapped around the night before, from Claire's offended and almost depressed face to the end, when their breathing slowed and the blankets seemed sensitive against their skin as they fell asleep. It was much better than their night on the couch, even when Mac knew that he hadn't quite made everything up to her that morning. Maybe when he got home, he would.

Stella smiled. "Just seemed a little -" She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm having an off morning. I'm really tired today."

"I heard the coffee in the break room is good," Mac answered jokingly. Stella's smile widened. "Take a break, then. Most people have a low tolerance for standing around microscopes all day."

She thanked him, yawned, and left his office. As she stood in the doorframe, she turned back around. "Most of the lab like to head down to a local bar on Fridays. Seeing as you survived your first week, maybe…?" Stella raised her eyebrows. "You can bring your wife, too. We'd all love to meet her."

Claire's face hovered back into his mind. "Thanks, but I owe her back today." He smiled at her again, quickly thinking over what he needed to set up. "Maybe next week."

"That sounds good." Stella watched Mac for a few more seconds. "I don't want to butt in or say anything, but… you know -"

"Off day?" Mac supplied.

She nodded. "You just seem…" She squinted as though that would help her pick out her words. "I'm not sure. Today, you just seem a little bit… disturbed by something or kinda annoyed. Almost like you want to avoid -" She shut her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry. That sounded horrible. I didn't -"

Mac smiled. "It's alright. Just get some coffee."

Stella nodded and left.

(With Each Passing Day)

"It's not as though you need to do anything special," Claire told Mac as she dug around a wooden box on the dresser for her necklace. She looked over her shoulder, seeing Mac pull on his socks. "I love you, I know you love me. We can… have an off-night and still be perfectly fine."

Mac looked up at her to see that Claire had already turned away to look for it again. He shut his eyes for a moment as he reached out blindly for his shoes. He opened his mouth to talk, but Claire beat him to it.

"I couldn't work for five minutes straight." She sighed and let her arms fall limp at her sides as she raked over the dresser with her eyes. "I kept feeling horrible about it. I - I shouldn't have done that, Mac."

About seven or eight years before, the two had met in a bar in Chicago. Mac could still remember the Claire from that day - vivacious and territorial, but willing to let people get inside that bubble that she controlled. She had only just mellowed out over the years, he noticed. The liveliness eased away into a sort of silent joy in almost everything she did. The way she needed to oversee the people close to her melted away until she just needed to know where they were, play a mother to them all rather than a god. And now she needed to know where Mac was.

"I know what you're like. I know that you wouldn't ever try that with anyone." She turned to Mac and smiled. "I'm lucky to have you. You could have had anyone."

Mac finished tying his shoes, then stood up. He took Claire around the waist and touch his forehead against hers. Her eyes looked unnaturally large and blue so close to her.

He understood the delicate balance between them, the light friendship that pervaded their lives with the romantic element that made them marry each other, and the small family that should have been there. Mac remained silent as he looked at her eyes and only gave her a soft smile.

(With Each Passing Day)

Ringing from the cell phone woke both Mac and Claire within seconds of each other, both peering around the room until they found the source of the news. Claire groaned and stretched before dropping limply back into her place on the bed. Mac was tempted to answer, but with a look at the clock, he rolled back over in bed.

"Not answering?" Claire asked, words slurred into the pillow.

"No," Mac answered.

Claire nodded, her eyes closed, and wrapped both her arms around the pillow. "What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Don't see why anyone needs to call at seven." Claire leaned forward and kissed the end of Mac's nose before crawling out of bed. "Damn woke me up." She tripped as she stood but regained her balance quickly. "Please tell me we didn't go to a bar after," she giggled, then grabbed onto the side of the bed.

"No, you're just tired." Mac sat up slowly, yawning, then blinked at her.

"Good," Claire answered. "Don't want to spoil you. No man will ever get lucky enough for three times in a row."

"I only said you're not hung over. I wasn't saying anything more."

Claire grinned and let go of the bed, testing her balance. She managed to keep steady and made uncertain steps to the door. "You dog. You dirty little dog."

Mac froze. "Dog. What happened to the dog?" He looked around for a moment, realizing that he hadn't paid any attention to it for days.

"Oh, I let him starve to death." Claire sighed. "Don't worry. I know you hate him. I take care of him all the time. He's probably in the closet again. He loves it in there." She glanced at Mac. "May not want to leave your clothes on the floor of the closet, by the way."

"That's reassuring." Mac glanced at the clock again. "It really is too early. Get back into bed."

Claire opened her mouth, but the cell phone rang again. She snapped it shut and furrowed her brow in its direction. "Go ahead and answer it," she said between rings.

Mac picked up the phone and hit a button. "Taylor."

"Mac? Something come up with a suspect. We - please get here." He heard Stella's call end with the sound of a gunshot in the background.


	6. Helpless Stupidity

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

Mac put a hand to his forehead, trying to think straight. He was barely dressed, having thrown on a shirt and pants he found lying around the room. He barely even registered that one sock was missing. His senses only returned to him when Claire threw herself against the door, stopping him from leaving.

He wanted impatiently for her to tell him not to go, to bring her if he had to go. It was the only thing he could imagine her doing. It caught him by surprise when Claire threw her arms around him. "Don't do anything stupid," she whispered.

"Already am." Mac pulled her into a one-armed hug before he tugged the door open. She watched him leave down the hall, her eyes never leaving his back.

_(With Each Passing Day)_

Mac could see the cop cars rushing down the road. He stayed behind them, taking advantage of their speeding to hurry. Surprisingly, he saw that they led to the lab itself. Mac frowned, glancing at the clock as he drove. Only twenty minutes had passed, and he knew he was right around the corner.

The cops seemed congregated around the lab, their guns out, several trying to find a way in through the doors. They appeared to be bolted out and darkened as though with paint. Mac parked behind the cops, pulled down the visor with the CSI badge, and got out.

"What's going on?" he shouted to one of the cops, who barely looked over his shoulder at Mac.

The cop was a big guy, black, and had his dark hair closely cropped to his head. Mac noticed the scar running down his arm from the elbow to wrist.

"As far as we can tell, it's a hostage situation." He glanced at Mac's badge. "Taylor, right?"

Mac nodded.

"We're getting in more backup before we try to get in." The cop's hands didn't waver like some of the others. Mac could tell that he had been working that job for at least ten years. "How'd you know?"

"Bonasera called me." Mac motioned to his cell phone without taking his eyes off the doors.

"She manage to get you?" The cop furrowed his brow. "Anything in the background? Voice recognition? Know who's there?"

"Gun shot in the background."

The cop nodded. "Tell the chief over there." He jerked his head to the side. "May help with preparing."

Mac looked in the direction the cop nodded and saw a tall man there, his forehead soaked in sweat no matter how cold it was out. He spoke to several officers, making motions to the building, their guns, the others, and anywhere else he could. Mac noticed that it didn't look like the man would stop ordering them around for anything.

Carefully, Mac walked to the back of the building. Part of it was uncovered by the cops where the wall was too solid for anyone to think about protecting it. He looked up the solid wall, squinting out the sun. There had to be something.

"Officer!" Mac yelled over to the cop again, who glanced up and looked around before following Mac. He still held his gun ready, though it was pointed to the ground. The cop followed Mac's finger up the wall to where he pointed.

"Vent?" he asked.

Mac nodded. "If you want to get it, the vent system always leads through the building, right?"

Frowning as he thought, the officer looked back up the wall. "I think you're right."

_(With Each Passing Day)_

By the time the ladder was up against the wall and the vent opened, Mac had forced a gun and bullet-proof vest out of the chief. Several officers stood around the ladder, waiting for the signal.

"What're you doing?"

Mac looked around until he saw the same officer he had been speaking to before. "I'm not leaving my lab."

"You're not an officer." The man frowned and carefully slid several bullets into his gun. "This isn't your job."

"I was an officer before working in the lab and I was in the Marines. I'm qualified." Mac met his eyes. "I'm not leaving my lab."

"Alright." The officer handed over the small box of ammunition. "May want these, then."

Mac slid open his gun and took a handful of the bullets, loading them all in. He hated the feeling of the bullets, starting after the Marines when he knew he had gotten too close to them for comfort. He did his job, though, securing the weapon and sticking it in his holster.

One of the other cops started to climb the ladder as another held it steady. He held a flashlight in one hand as he went, which made his climb rather like an awkward limp. Mac watched, then saw another officer follow. He took the opportunity to follow, knowing that the big officer was behind him. The gun hit his leg as he climbed and once he reached the vent and climbed in, he touched the holster to reassure himself it was there.

The vent was wide and tall, at least tall enough for the large officer's back to only barely brush the top. Mac followed the lights the others cast in front of him and listened for sounds.

They didn't come for at least a hundred feet. He started to hear voices through the vent. Most of them were low whispers with their sharp hisses while one of them was louder, angrier.

"Here," one of the cops hissed from the front of the vent. "We're dropping out here. Sounds like they're going to be in the next room."

The officers nodded their agreement, and the one in front unhooked the vent and slid out onto the floor below. Each followed.

Sure enough, the room was empty. Mac finally pulled the gun out of his holster and clicked off the safety.

As he followed the other officers, his mind kept flashing back and forth. Guns going off for practice, aiming at their human-shaped targets. The snipers kept to themselves, carefully calling to each other their orders, taking their slow, prized aim, watching the bullet as though it moved through palpable air. The rest shot blindly, knowing that at some point, they would hit their targets. Light could shine through the holes in the boards, and one even looked as though it had a pair of shining eyes.

His mind flashed to Claire's face just minutes before, pleading with him. _Don't do anything stupid._ His mind answered her pleading now - _I can't help it._

A cop hit the door hard, breaking the lock in one blow. He darted to the side, gun aimed at a figure Mac couldn't see. Mac followed, aiming up at the only man in the room he couldn't recognize. The man stared back at the cops, still holding his gun up, aimed at a small crowd of lab techs. Mac counted them, trying to remember each name. He caught Stella's eye about halfway through and noticed that she was half-hidden behind a desk, her cell phone on the floor a few feet away. There was some blood on the floor around her, though Mac couldn't tell if it was hers or not.

"Put down your weapon!" yelled a cop, gun aimed right at the man's chest.

The man's hands shook. "No."

"Put down your -"

"No!" The man shot a bullet almost randomly, but Mac realized what he was doing. It ricocheted off the equipment, breaking several test tubes. "Not until I get what I'm here for!"

The cop remained silent.

"You're not putting my sister in prison!" He aimed again, shooting at a fume vent, which shattered. "Just give me the evidence you got, an' I'll go."

When no one made a move, he sent a bullet into the air. "Give me the damn evidence!" He aimed his gun to the officer's head, and the others tightened their grips on their guns. "Don't even try that!" he yelled, his voice between hysterical and a sob. He tugged at his shirt collar. "I can blow this place to hell!" He pulled out a handful of wires from under his shirt.

It wasn't real, and all of the cops could see that. They still shifted on their feet, hands starting to grow unsteady.

"Let it go," the cop said, his voice low. "If you leave the lab right now, you won't have so many charges against you."

The man toyed with the wires, bringing them close to each other. "Any second now! Just give me the evidence!" He watched them through watery eyes. "You're - you're not doing this to her! Not to me!"

Mac squinted and saw the serial number printed on one of the wires. He glanced at the other cops near him, trying to understand if they saw it, too. From the look on the big cop's face, he had a feeling he saw. As the man brought the wires closer and closer, the cop's face darkened steadily until he finally threw himself over everyone in front of him, bringing them all to the ground.

Mac gasped as he made contact against the floor, the cop's arm over him. A gun went off, though he couldn't see whose it was, and the lab filled with a dirty grey smoke. At the same time, the bomb exploded in a loud bang, echoing over the walls and into their heads. Mac looked up, trying to peer through the smoke to see the damage done, but cold metal collided with his head and everything slowly faded out to black.

_(With Each Passing Day)_

Mac groaned as he woke and noticed something cold against his chest. He shivered and motioned to move it away, but it remained.

"Don't think you're getting out of this that easy," someone said over him. Mac opened his eyes slowly, getting used to the light. His neck and leg hurt like hell, and it took him a moment to realize he was lying on the ground with shattered bits of equipment surrounding him. The paramedic sat over him, taking the stethoscope off Mac's chest. "Nothing severe," he said, noticing where Mac looked. "Ray here was a bit overenthusiastic. Hit you in the head with his gun."

Mac looked to his other side to see the large cop who he had spoken to first as he went to the lab. Ray gave him an apologetic smile.

"Didn't mean to. Guess I should learn you can't shoot smoke."

"It's alright." Mac pressed a hand against his ear, noticing the dull ringing still there. "Anyone hurt?"

Ray glanced at the doctor, but neither answered.

"Anyone?" Mac prompted, closing his eyes and preparing for the worst. Silver stars shot behind his eyelids.

"One death and a few injuries," Ray answered, his voice low. "Death doesn't include our madman. Other than that, no one came out with worse than a few cuts and scrapes. They're out by the ambulance."

Mac's breath caught in his throat. He sat up quickly, ignoring the doctor's insistent hands trying to pull him back to the ground. Ray caught Mac's head and forced him to look up at the ceiling before he got a good look around.

"What am I not supposed to see?" he asked dully, not bothering to fight the man's hands.

"It's not that. You got a nose bleed," Ray answered.

Mac touched under his nose and put his fingers in front of his eyes. They were dirty from the smoke, but not bloody. "No I don't. What am I not supposed to see?"

Ray didn't answer for a second, and his voice came out hesitantly. "People just don't like usually seeing this kinda thing."

"I _work _with this kind of thing," Mac answered. Ray let go of Mac's head and moved back an inch or two. Mac glanced around the lab.

First, he only noticed the shattered glass and broken plastic, as well as the blown-up evidence boxes. He winced as he looked at each thing, knowing how much trouble it could only cause them. Then he started to notice what Ray referred to. Blood still stained part of the floor, as well as a burned arm beside Mac's leg. Mac shifted, trying to stay far away from it as he considered whose it could have been. A paramedic walked around the lab slowly, collecting the frayed and burned body parts. One hand with a few missing fingers had more burn marks, and Mac understood that it was their killer's.

"Rick went," Ray whispered. "They already took him out. Thank God he died in one piece. I don't want to see his wife's face during the funeral."

Mac clenched his jaw and shrugged the paramedic's arm off as he bent his legs into his chest. He didn't have the time to dwell, to talk, to do anything, when the doors opened. He recognized the two figures coming through the smoke almost instantly.

Claire brushed her hair back absently as she neared him. She kneeled down so that Mac could see her face clearly. She didn't smile. "You alright?" she asked, her voice cracked and raw. Mac nodded, but Claire still glanced over at the paramedic.

"He's fine," he answered. "Just a hit on the head. He'll just have a bruise for a week or two and be dizzy for a few hours." The paramedic pulled up Mac's pant leg a inch or two to show a white bandage. "Got cut up by some glass, but we wrapped that up fine."

Claire nodded and grabbed Mac, pulling him into a tight hug. "I hate you so much," she whispered. "Don't - you - _dare_ ever go doing stupid things again."

"I can't help it," Mac answered, hugging her back.

"I hate you so much," Claire whispered again, but he could tell that she was smiling. "All you ever do is put yourself in stupid places." She broke away from the hug, her hands still around his arms. "You -" She fought for words, then quit. She glanced up at Stella, who stood a few feet behind them, then back at Mac. "She - she's a nice girl," Claire said with a small smile, then stood up. Stella glanced at Claire, who gave her the same smile.

Stella kneeled where Claire had been. "Thanks," she said, looking away from Mac, down at the floor. Mac could see that her arm was bandaged. "I'm really sorry for making you do that."

Mac opened his mouth, but Stella shook her head, silencing him. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have -"

"If you hadn't, you'd still be in here. Worse, he'd still have a gun to everyone's head." Mac nodded at the paramedic who carried the blown-up body and felt bile rise into his throat. "It's his fault."

Stella nodded slowly, then met Mac's eyes. "I - thank you, Mac," she whispered. She backed away from him, turning to leave, then Claire touched Stella's shoulder and stopped her. Mac wanted to hear what they were saying, but he heard Ray speak to him.

"I'm sorry about doing that," he said. "When the bomb - I just got nervous. I've been here so long, but I've never seen a bomb go off."

"It's alright." Mac turned away from the two women and smiled at Ray. "I think everyone was nervous around that."

"You sure as hell weren't." Ray cocked his head to the side and Mac was instantly reminded of a dog. "You seen bombs before?"

"It's a long story," he answered flatly, then glanced back at Claire and Stella. He noticed that Stella gave Claire a smile and looked over to him before leaving. Claire turned back to Mac and held out her hand. Mac took it and got to his feet. He closed his eyes for a second, realizing that he really was dizzy, then grabbed Claire's shoulder to stay still. Claire only looked up at him as she held his arm, her eyes still full of concern, but with the same small smile.

"She is a nice girl," she repeated.

"What were you talking about?"

Claire shrugged. "Things. Let's just go home, alright?"


	7. Long Lost Carnivals

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

Claire drove home slowly, watching the traffic carefully as she went. Mac knew how much she hated to drive in the city, where there was so much potential to crash into someone. As Mac watched the mailboxes and buildings pass, however, he felt as though they were steadily turning around him in a circle, waving on sides like the rides he had seen at a carnival in Chicago.

He remembered walking past it and Claire laughing at the booth for shooting the cardboard animals. They weren't in a hurry, so she tried her hand at it. When she used ten bullets to get one duck down, she laughed more and explained to Mac that the world was safer without her in law enforcement. Mac wasn't sure to be amused or ashamed when every bullet he shot off hit a duck right in the bulls eye of their target.

Hooked onto the game, Claire forced Mac with her on a few of the rides, telling him stories when she was younger, going on the rides with her little sister every time a carnival came into town. Her longest story was the teacup ride as she liked calling it, sitting in the twisted eggshell of a seat, turning the table to spin faster and faster like a blender as the seat rode with a roller coaster. The last time she had been on it, her sister and she spun the table so hard that it eventually stuck. Sadly, the position had been just bad enough that they spent the rest of the ride staring out at the direction they were turning, smashing into the table and almost out of the seat by the force of the spins.

Mac couldn't help but smile as the buildings continued to turn around him. He turned to Claire, glad that she seemed to be sitting still. "Remember the carnival?"

"Honey, I think that hit on the head was a little too strong. There's no carnival." Claire leaned over the steering wheel, looking down a street before she went through the green light. "What fare?"

"The one in Chicago. Probably a year and a half ago." Mac thought about it. "It was in June. With the hunting game."

Claire grinned. "I remember that one. Still have the stuffed panda my sharp-shooter got me." She glanced at him. "What made you think of it?"

Mac shrugged, still smiling. "Just remembered the teacup ride."

"Poor thing. You're dizzy." Claire touched his shoulder, shaking it jokingly. "Just don't vomit on me again."

"What? Am I forgetting something?"

"Not quite." Claire turned down the road where the apartment was. "I just seem to remember a certain sharp-shooter not having as strong of a stomach as he said he had. I know you were minutes from it. That's why we left. I was wearing my favorite shirt. Green wouldn't have gone well."

Mac tried to remember the shirt. "We had been going on a walk before that. You would have been wearing that dark blue shirt." He shook his head. "Maybe if I had told you it was hideous, you'd've stayed longer."

Claire elbowed him. "You're just jealous that I look nice in blue and you don't."

"My blue shirts are the reason I have female coworkers," Mac countered, unable to let go of the fight. There was something always appealing about this kind of conversation with Claire, something that he couldn't find the same pleasure in through work or any other activity.

"Not counting the guys? I can't imagine you going this long without a man hitting on you yet." Claire shrugged. "Maybe it's just your _hideous_ blue shirts driving them away."

"Speaking of driving," Mac said, knowing that there wasn't a reason to complete the sentence. He saw Claire tense against the steering wheel, slowing down the car and eyes darting around. "Just kidding!"

Claire's whole body seemed to relax at once and she sighed before elbowing him again. "You bastard!" she shouted, but the grin came back. "That wasn't funny!"

"It was."

Claire glanced at him, trying her best to look offended, and didn't answer as she pulled into the parking lot. She parked the car in the usual spot they always put it, then opened her door and got out. Mac glanced at her empty seat, giving a small laugh, then opened his own door. Claire already stood outside his door, keys in her hand, waiting for him. Once he was out, she grabbed his arm.

"Glass," she explained at his curious look, pointing down to his ankle.

Mac twisted his ankle to check the pain. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be," he answered, but still tightened his grip on her.

"Fine, yeah," Claire answered, smiling. "Sure you're alright?" Mac nodded again. "It was a _bomb_," she added as though to remind herself. "I - I can't believe someone would do that just to -"

"You wouldn't believe what people do to save themselves," Mac sighed. "It's common for suspects to go and kill themselves after they've been questioned. I've seen it at least half a dozen times."

Claire swallowed as they reached the door. "That's just horrible."

"When all you have is life in prison to look forward to after an accidental killing or even one on purpose, it's hard to chose which is worse." Mac glanced at Claire, trying to understand where to finish talking. Claire had stopped him plenty of times when he spoke about a case, no matter how little, saying that she couldn't stand listening to the recount of deaths.

Claire pressed the button for the elevator, then turned back to Mac. "Wanna know what we were talking about?"

Mac raised his eyebrow, not wanting to admit his curiosity. Since before, listening to Claire's tone when she spoke about Stella, he couldn't imagine what they could speak about that wouldn't set off either.

"Before a went in, I asked where you were first. She said inside the building, but not to go in until the paramedic was out because there were bodies in there. And - well, I panicked, but she told me that nothing had to do with you then and that you were fine. When we were inside, I asked what was going on, and she told me." They stepped into the elevator as the doors opened. "Then I asked her why he would set off that bomb. She didn't answer for a while, then said, 'I guess because his sister was facing life in jail at that point' and then said that there was a chance the evidence wouldn't have turned out his sister as being guilty." Claire gave Mac a wry smile. "Then I said, 'Sometimes life's funny,' and she said, 'Not really.' It's still ironic, though, isn't it?"

Mac didn't answer, but only watched the elevator doors open. Once they were in the hall, he spoke. "It is."

"I'm glad you're alright," Claire told him again. "I heard you on the phone and I was so lost. By the time I got there, there was just smoke all around the building and I didn't know what to think. For a minute, I thought you had -" Claire swallowed and tightened her grip. "Glad you're fine."

He considered it for a moment, trying to imagine Claire's reaction. His mind slowly moved onto the thought of life without Claire, but he tried to push it out of his mind.

Pulling her keys out, Claire opened the door. "Welcome home, buddy." When Mac looked down, Terry the dog was already jumping at his leg. Claire grinned and bent to pick up the dog with her free arm, carrying him by the waist.

"Go lie down," Claire said, letting go of Mac. She motioned to the couch with her elbow and set the dog down. As Mac sat down on the couch, Terry jumped up on Mac's lap. Mac scratched the dog behind the ears, forgetting his usual dislike and distrust to the dog for a few minutes as he lied down. His head still swam, spinning the world like the deck of a ship. Terry gave off a low, guttural sound rather like a purr from a cat.

Claire left the room for a minute. Mac continued to pet Terry as he closed his eyes, hoping the dizziness would stop. Claire returned seconds later.

"Want some?" she asked, leaning over the back of the couch. Mac opened his eyes to see that she held a pill bottle. He glanced at the label, trying to make out the name, then nodded. Claire opened the bottle, handing it to him with a glass of water. She circled around the couch and perched herself on the armrest. Mac watched her again.

"I'm glad you're fine," she repeated quietly to him, smiling again. He watched her face carefully, seeing the almost-empty look she gave him. Her mouth remained in a straight line, an expression he had only rarely seen from her. Then, slowly, her face crumpled until she was left crying, broken apart slowly from the inside. She covered her face with one hand, crushing the tears on her cheeks. "Jesus, Mac… I - I can't stand seeing you do this kinda thing."

When Mac shifted from his position, leaning his shoulders against the opposite armrest, causing the dog to jump to the ground, she seemed to take her cue from him and moved over to lie halfway on him, her arms wrapped around him as they had each night for as long as she could remember around him.

(With Each Passing Day)

Mac listened to Stella only half-heartedly as she listed the destruction from the lab to him. He surveyed the damage around him, trying to imagine what the lab had looked like only a day before.

Stella sighed as she ended, then joined him in looking around. "Never thought this would happen," she said, then crossed her arms. Mac noticed a pink scar forming on the underside of her arm, much like Ray's. He felt guilty, though he couldn't understand why.

"Your arm alright?" he asked.

Stella bent it awkwardly to look at the scar. "Yeah. I can barely feel it now. It'll be gone in a while, at least." She gave him a small smile.

Mac nodded, but still couldn't take his eyes off of the scar. Stella seemed to notice. "Your leg any better?"

He shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I barely noticed it last night. Still don't."

"Adrenaline does a lot, I guess." Stella smile widened a little. "I'm going to figure out what I can do for the equipment. Any clue what's happening to the lab until it's fixed?"

"Moving to another one it sounds like." Mac raised his eyebrows and rubbed the back of his neck. "Can't do much. I just can't imagine what's going to happen now that all of this evidence is destroyed -"

"I guess he got his wish," Stella muttered bitterly. "At least ten people are going to be sent to prison now, just watch." She glanced at him once more, then headed off in another direction.

Mac looked up, seeing a bit of the sun shine through a crack in the roof. He sighed as he walked off, only able to think about how much evidence he was walking over and the scar on Stella's arm.


	8. Hereditary Attitude

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates.

"Mr. Hammerback?"

"That's right."

Mac smiled at the man, looking him over. He didn't look quite like the other medical examiners, who were straight out of college and fresh. This man seemed as thought he would know what to do, even in the strangest of cases.

"Sit down."

Sid sat and watched Mac.

Looking over the resume, Mac tried to think of a question he hadn't already asked over the phone. "You're transferring from…?"

"California. Just seems too crowded there." Sid smiled, looking amused. "If I had the choice, I'd have the interesting cases far in between than the common ones every day."

"You'll probably find that in New York."

Sid nodded, still smiling.

Mac glanced over the paper again. "I just have one question that's been bothering me…"

Sid raised his eyebrows.

"Why on earth did you list 'dead bodies' and 'human husbandry' as interests?"

(With Each Passing Day)

Days stretched into weeks that lounged carelessly over the calendar, turning into colder and colder months. Mac had started to mark the passage of time by the scars - Stella's scar from the bomb, the small scar he realized he had acquired on his leg, the little cuts and bruises that came out of rebuilding the crime lab and setting the lab back into a place where they could pretend not to notice the sudden increase of people in jail. Enough files were kept, Mac realized, that it wasn't a complete loss for the suspects, but it still put some damage to the lab's name.

Mac spent his time memorizing the entire lab's floor plan until he could count the feet across his office and the hall way in any dimension, no matter where he stood. Nothing like this would happen again.

He only listened vaguely to the conversations around him. He realized that Claire and Stella hadn't stopped talking after the bomb.

In mid-December, Mac returned home to Claire unpacking a box. She glanced up at him as the door close and grinned. "Hey!"

Mac shrugged out of his coat, noticing the wet spots where snow had hit it. "You're perky," he muttered. "It's freezing outside."

"Isn't it great?" Claire pulled out stockings from the box, and Mac saw that it was filled with Christmas decorations. He groaned inwardly, but grinned, knowing that Claire would be in a frenzy at least until next January or February.

Every Christmas with her involved several things: massive amounts of decoration, children, and cooking. Christmas seemed to bring out some deeply hidden aspect to Claire, one that seemed to tell her that she had children and a to-do list longer than Santa's naughty and nice list. He had never seen her frown during December before, though.

"Not especially," Mac answered, but he grinned. "I'm surprised you're starting this early."

"_Late_," she sighed. "I'm starting late. Wanna help?"

He smiled and stood over the box, looking down into it. It was still almost full. "Not too much." He still bent down and pulled out a wreath, then grinned at it. "I love it when you do this."

Claire sat back on his heels and frowned at him. "Do what?"

"This." He waved at the box and kneeled down beside her. "Every Christmas, you act like you have kids and as though you need to spend a month decorating."

Claire remained silent for a moment, a stocking hanging loosely in her hand. Mac looked over at her, wondering if she was going to lash out at him. Her expression didn't seem violent, but thoughtful. "I never wanted to give up hope on that, I guess." She sighed and shrugged. "You know, sometimes I wish we had thought about it before and had kids. I guess that's why I like inviting my sister over so much - I can pretend once a year that we did." She smiled, but the smile faded when she looked at Mac. His muscles felt too tense, and he noticed the slight tremor in his own hands. Claire put her arm on his shoulder and shook it.

"I'm not blaming anyone." Claire tried to smile again. "Mac, the only reason we never did was because of our jobs. I understand that. If I wanted kids _that_ badly, I wouldn't have taken this job, and I wouldn't have ever let you take your job." She tilted her head. "It's just… nice to have someone around to take care of."

Mac looked down at the wreath in his hands.

"It's - it's just a girl thing." Claire smirked. "If there were a man who understood it, he'd be a king among women. Just maternal instinct, you know?"

"You have Reed," Mac said bitterly, his words coming out harsher than he wanted them to. He bit his tongue once he realized what he said and closed his eyes.

He knew that she hadn't seen him in a while. When he had asked why she stopped visiting him after he was about two or three, she explained it to him simply - why force him to know who she was, that he had a mother, when she wouldn't be there next time to take him home. She only left behind a name and address for them to give to him when he turned eighteen.

Claire sat in silence for a few seconds. "We all do stupid things when we're young. I won't say I'm ashamed of what I did because I love Reed."

Mac looked up at her slowly and saw the dangerous look in Claire's eyes start to fade away. Her voice lowered into a reassuring hush. "We agreed on this, alright? We both knew that he could have kids anytime we wanted, and we said that unless it just happened, we weren't going to make that extra effort for them." She leaned against his shoulder. "If we really wanted them…" Claire looked up at him. "Why would we?"

Mac frowned as he glanced at her upturned face.

"If we had kids, I wouldn't have free reign of you." Claire grinned as she sat up and moved in front of him, her face dangerously close to his. Her breath was warm, a pleasant relief from the bitter cold outside. Slowly, she pressed her lips against his and drew back. "The kids would say that's yucky, and we both know it's not." She smiled.

Mac touched the top of her head and ran his fingers through her tangled curls. Claire pressed against him again, lightly kissing his lips, drawing out each kiss slowly. Mac finally kissed back.

"I'll let you off the hook for decorations," Claire breathed. "That's only because I love you, though. If I didn't, you'd be doing all the work."

"Lucky for me, then." Mac smiled and leaned into her again, but stopped when he heard the phone ring. Claire sighed and let him go to his jacket to take his cell phone out of the pocket.

"Taylor."

"It's Doctor Wilson."

Mac froze as he listened to him speak. He turned away from Claire, resting his face in the palm of one hand. The doctor spoke slowly and clearly, knowing that Mac didn't want any pauses to talk. His voice was solemn, the same it had been with every phone call before.

"I'm sure this is the time," the doctor finished.

"Alright." Mac closed his eyes. "Could you tell him I'll be there soon?"

The conversation finished quickly with no added attempts at conversation. Mac hung up and looked back at Claire, who had obviously been watching him carefully the entire time. Her face fell. "Was it -?"

Mac nodded and leaned against the counter.

She stood slowly, giving him a pitying look. "I'm so sorry, Mac." Claire moved around the counter and cautiously touched his shoulders before bringing him into a one-sided hug. She rested her chin against his chest, breathing warmly into his ear. "I'm so sorry."

Mac breathed deeply, trying to find something to focus on.

"Did they say how much longer?" Claire asked quietly.

"A week or two."

"I'll get plane tickets, then."

Mac broke away. "What for?"

Claire blinked at him, and Mac could see that her eyes were wet. "To see him."

"No." Mac shook his head and took a step back. "No. I'm not."

"You are." Claire furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't care that the two of you haven't had the best relationship in the world. He's your father. You've known this was coming for seven months already. You should have -"

"I don't care what I should have done." Mac swallowed and found how painfully tight his throat had gotten. "I didn't, and that's what matters."

"I'm not going to let you live, knowing you didn't see him before." Claire's hands twisted nervously in front of her. "You only have one father, and it's - it's going to bother you for the rest of your life."

Mac didn't answer for a long time. He studied her face silently, trying to work out the words. "If I did feel bad about not seeing him, at least it would be one emotion to remember him by. I'm not going back."

Claire's jaw tightened fiercely, forcing her face into an expression Mac had never seen on it before. She drew back her hand and slapped him before he knew what had happened.

"Don't even say that," she hissed. "You know what I've had to deal with? When I was ten, my mother died when I was in school. None of us had a clue what was going to happen, and none of us had time to prepare for it. No one told me until I had come home and asked what happened to her. The only memory I have of her now is leaving for school and shouting a goodbye to her because I thought I'd be late."

She glared at him, then turned away. He only heard the bedroom door close after her. He felt drained, though he couldn't understand why.

It had been months since he last spoke to his father, and it had to have been years before that time. Their last words exchanged had been short, curt, straight to the point. Military cut, the type of thing Mac never would have expected from the man.

Mac leaned against the counter until his forehead rested against the cold platform. He breathed deeply, trying to keep control. After a few minutes, he straightened out, walked to the computer, and ordered two tickets.

(With Each Passing Day)

Mac sat across the bed from his father. The chair was stiff and unpleasant to sit on, but Mac had already had enough experience with hospital chairs. He knew that it was rarely the chair itself, but the experience that came with it. The whole body stiffness that came from awaiting a newborn baby to lay eyes on you, that came from watching a child complain of a broken arm, that came from waiting for a friend who may not make it, that came from waiting for someone to die, possibly in front of you.

Frank Taylor barely looked like his son. He had light brown hair, shades lighter than Mac's, and eyes that were the exact same color as his hair. The only similarity between them was the stocky build and the straight line of their spines that never seemed to be damaged, no matter how relaxed they were.

Mac tried to comprehend his father's words. He felt frozen to the spot, afraid for the first time in a long time. "No," he answered simply."

On the bed, Frank looked ill. Mac couldn't deny it in any way. His eyes seemed hollowed out, depressed, as did the rest of his face. The cancer hadn't been at all nice to him or the good looks he had before.

"Medication isn't doing anything," Frank said. His voice wavered as he pleaded. "Please. Just take out the plug. The ventilator. I don't care what. As long as this ends. I'll be dead in a few days anyway."

Mac watched him, then found his eyes drawn to the tubes and machines. Since his father had been admitted to the hospital, Mac couldn't think of him without thinking about those tubes or his paper-thin voice.

Once Frank pleaded once more for Mac to end his life, Mac couldn't take it. He stood up, nearly tipping the chair, then left the room as fast as he could.

(With Each Passing Day)

Claire found Mac sitting in the hallway of the maternity ward several floors above his father's room.

She approached him quietly, taking a seat beside him and listening to the first scream of a baby from down the hall. Mac didn't look up at her.

"Did you talk?" Claire asked in a low voice. A nurse passed them with a wheelchair that held a proud mother and her child. Claire and Mac both watched them and only noticed the similar chocolate skin and black eyes the two shared. Mac wondered if the baby would grow up to have the same smile as the mother, one that seemed to reach past her eyes to her whole body, expressing her happiness as though it were a silent and still dance of some sort.

"Yes," he answered shortly.

Claire bowed forward, her elbows on her knees. "Good." She swallowed. "You're going to feel better about that sometime, even if you don't know."

"I don't."

Claire frowned. "Mac -"

Mac shook his head. "He's half dead already, Claire. He knows it and I know it. Conversations where everyone understands that are never rewarding."

"What'd he say, then?"

"Things."

Mac felt his chest freeze as he said the word. He didn't want Claire to know that his last conversation with his father was going to be an argument over killing. He couldn't stop himself, though, and could only bring himself to hide his face behind his hands.

Claire touched his back, then rubbed it slowly. "You'll be happier about it someday," she whispered, then pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "Just trust me on it."

Mac felt hot tears behind his eyes and knew that Claire could sense them. She pressed herself tighter to him, drawing him into an awkwardly sideways hug. He shuddered with the force of holding back tears, but Claire held on tight.

"Let it out." Her voice was soft and smooth, the kind Mac missed hearing since their argument. "Just let it out, Mac."

I'm not strong, Mac thought to himself. His mind raced around the conversation. I can't even give a dying man his wish. I can't even stop myself from breaking down in the hallway. Maternity wards aren't the right place for this.

He remained there.

(With Each Passing Day)

Mac blinked as he stood in the hospital room once more. He didn't realize how he had gotten there, or even why. He could only watch the man on the bed before him for a moment before looking at the opposite wall. He sighed and balanced his weight awkwardly on one foot. "Don't ask me again."

"Wasn't planning to," Frank answered. Mac looked to see that his father didn't meet his eyes either.

Mac moved the chair back to its original position and sat down. Frank turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. "You're back."

Mac nodded. He tried to concentrate, to look at this man as his father, but he found that it had gotten harder over the years. "I'm back."

Frank watched him, studying each movement Mac made. Mac tried to sit still, his hands on his knees, his eyes unblinking. It didn't work for long.

"How's Claire?"

Mac blinked as Frank asked. He hadn't expected Frank to remember much that had happened over the years they hadn't spoken, much less Claire.

"She's fine." Mac cleared his throat. The empty silence bothered him. "She's working at the World Trade Center now. She seems pretty happy with it. The city loves her and she loves it back."

Frank grinned. It didn't look right, somehow. "She's a nice girl. Claire'd fit in anywhere, wouldn't she?"

"She would." A pause. "She - she was actually the one who made me come out here."

"Somehow I figured that out." Frank sighed to the ceiling. "I didn't think you'd come by yourself. Where is she now?"

"In the waiting room. Said I should talk to you first."

Frank nodded, and his face fell back into its usual neutral expression again. "How've you been, Mac?"

It had been ten years since Mac had last heard that from his father. "I'm doing fine. I - wish you could say the same."

They exchanged fake smiles for a moment. Frank laughed quietly. "Empathy, Mac. The one reason I never thought you'd be an officer."

"Empathy solves cases." Mac shrugged. "Sometimes it just helps."

"Same reason you fell in love with Claire." Frank shifted to meet his son's eyes. "It sounded ridiculous to me after I first met her, but… it makes sense."

"She's a nice girl," Mac answered, echoing Frank's words.

"She is. I'm not contradicting that. She just always seemed…" Frank chewed over his words, and Mac was surprised to see some of himself mirrored in that thoughtful face. "Not in the clouds, that's not the right phrase. Just… she's like a kid. A grown-up kid who understands the world, but a kid." Frank's empty smile came back. "Guess that shows I don't know you,"

Mac said nothing.

"Always thought you'd marry one of those tough female cop types. The one who wouldn't take off her holster for her wedding." Frank grinned. "Maybe I wasn't watching Claire close enough at the wedding."

Mac ignored the images that came unbidden to his mind, telling himself that it wasn't time to think of Stella, to think of the certain look she gave him that wasn't quite the same as the ones she gave everyone else.

"I didn't," Mac said blankly.

(With Each Passing Day)

Frank sighed as he stretched out his arms. Mac's head was filled with the last words exchanged in their conversation, replaying that subtle note that had reentered Frank's voice. _Kill me kill me_. The words wouldn't leave Mac's head.

"I'm glad you came." Mac blinked, looking back at his father when he heard the words. Another phrase he hadn't heard in a long time. "Go get some sleep, Mac."

Mac glanced at his watch and saw that he had been there for several hours. It was nearing midnight. "I -"

"Get some sleep." Frank nodded to the door. "If you still want, I'll talk to you later, but it's late."

Mac nodded stiffly, unable to shake off the feeling that years of tension he had unraveled in a few hours' time was starting to build itself up again. "Bye."

"Bye." Frank nodded him off again, then spoke once Mac's hand was on the doorknob. "Don't let me find out you were just pretending to sleep tonight. I remember you doing that."

Mac smirked as he left. He was surprised to see Claire standing by the door. She straightened up as soon as she saw him and uncrossed her arms. "Hey."

"Hey." Mac smiled. Claire didn't. Her face remained straight and serious as she watched him.

"You have a nice talk?"

Mac could tell that she wouldn't let him leave unless he had. "I did."

"Wouldn't want to imagine you fighting with Frank Taylor for four hours." Claire grinned. "Even in bed, he'd kill you."

"That's what you get with my family."


	9. Genes Run in a Family

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

Claire dusted her hands on her pants as she finished putting up the miniature Christmas tree on the coffee table. She never smiled when she finished decorating, Mac noticed, but only sat down and surveyed her work as though it needed to be done.

Sure enough, Claire sighed as she tossed herself onto the couch beside Mac. She took the mug of coffee out of his hand and drank some before handing it back.

Mac looked at the lipstick stain on the mug. "Thanks."

Claire looked at him as though only noticing he was there. "Sorry, Mac. Wasn't paying attention." She looked down and straightened her blouse, buttoning the top button that she had left undone. "That's a record. Finished two days before Christmas. Last day of work before the holidays. You aren't going to have to work tomorrow, are you?"

It sounded almost like an accusation. "I shouldn't," Mac answered. "Always a chance of being called in after Christmas, but I should be free."

"Good." Claire pulled a few loose strands of her hair back. "My sister's coming."

"Good."

"You should bring someone for once."

Mac tried to distract himself by undoing his tie and fixing it, even though it had already been straight to begin with. He ignored Claire's stare. "Who?" he sighed.

"I dunno." Claire grabbed her shoes from beside the couch and put them on. As she tied each, she leaned her foot forward and back, as though to test the heel. It was something Mac always noticed her doing in the morning, though he still hadn't asked why. "I know you have more friends than me, darling."

Mac shrugged. "I never bring anyone to Christmas. That's just what I do."

"Alright, alright. No need to get offensive." Claire looked at him sideways. "You're just acting depressed since we went back to Chicago. Anything bothering you?"

Mac clenched his jaw. "No."

She didn't answer for a long time. She looked at her watch. "Alright, Mac. You tell yourself whatever you want. Time to go." She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Aren't I driving you?"

Claire frowned. "See? You _are_ acting funny. I just kissed you and -"

"Let's just go," Mac sighed.

Claire watched him from the corner of her eye as they walked into the hallway to the elevator. "I had told you that you'd regret not talking to him now. Mac, just know that you tried to do something, alright? He still loves you, and I think Frank's glad you were there for him." Her voice lowered as she slipped an arm around Mac. "You've known this was going to happen for a long time, Mac. I know that doesn't make it any easier, but you…"

Mac said nothing as her sudden cut-off.

"When I talked to him after you, he said he was glad you finally started talking to him again. It's been a long time for both of you. You haven't spoken since our wedding, have you?"

"Once." Mac pressed the button for the first floor and listened to the steady clank of the elevator. "He called me when they found the cancer, you know." Claire didn't say anything. "Wasn't a long call, but we spoke for a few minutes."

"It means a lot to him," Claire whispered. She stood close to Mac, her arm wound tightly around his. She opened her mouth to say something, but the elevator doors opened and a woman entered. Claire remained silent.

Neither spoke until Mac opened the door to the car to let Claire in. She smiled at him. "I know."

"Hmm?" Mac walked around the front of the car and opened his own door. He watched Claire almost bounce with excitement through the windshield.

"Stella."

"Hmm?" Mac climbed into the car, keeping his face blank as he put the key in the ignition.

"You couldn't think of anyone to bring to Christmas. You can bring Stella. I know you're friends with her. It's nice to do."

"You're fine with that?" Mac asked, not looking at her.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Claire smiled. "I know I was a bit - well, I was mean at first about it, I know. But I met her, and I like her. Why not bring her? Unless you know she's already spending Christmas with her family or something."

"She isn't." Mac remembered looking through the files of his coworkers when he first started working in the lab. The district attorney had told him to, telling him to make sure it was a workable team for him. Mac had practically memorized some of the files, and remembered seeing Stella's emergency contact and person to notify belonged to a man with another last name who Mac couldn't trace back as family. When he looked more, he saw the orphaned status in her records, as well as a record from Saint Basil's Orphanage.

Claire nodded and didn't ask anything about how he knew. "You gonna invite her, then?"

"If she's not busy, I suppose."

"Good boy." Claire grinned and pecked him on the cheek as she fastened her seatbelt. "And Charlotte'll be here tomorrow with the kids."

Mac winced. "Please tell me James is coming, at least."

"You lucky little man." Claire smirked. "It's your lucky year."

"Finally," Mac sighed. "I was starting to think he died or they were divorced or something."

_(With Each Passing Day)_

Mac shut his car door and surveyed the parking lot. There were never many cars this early in the morning, and Christmas seemed to have cut it down even more. He put his keys in his pocket as he headed for the door.

"Mac!"

He turned and saw Stella walking behind him, her high heels pounding against the cold cement. Mac waited for her, then smiled when she neared.

_Claire wanted me to ask you - I wanted to ask you - Are you busy this - _Mac ran as many phrases as he could through his mind, trying to pick the right one. He couldn't remember having this much trouble asking a question since he proposed to Claire, a comparison he didn't want to make.

"Hey, Stella."

"Hey. Merry Christmas." Stella pulled at her hair and tied it back into a loose bun. Her cheeks and nose were already turning red from the cold. Mac imagined what he looked like if her tanned skin was already flushing. "Hanukah, Kwanzaa, whatever," she added. "I gave up on keeping track of people and their religions a long time ago."

"Christmas." Mac smiled. "Catholic, so just Christmas works."

"Greek Orthodox," Stella said as though in greeting, then stuck out her hand. Mac shook it. "Nice to meet you, Christmas Catholic."

Mac grinned. "You have any plans for Christmas?"

Stella shook her head. "Just hanging out with the cats, that kinda thing." At Mac's raised eyebrows, she grinned. "I don't have cats. Don't worry. I'm not doing anything. What're you doing?"

"Claire's sister's coming in with her kids."

His mood must have shown in his face because Stella laughed. "Don't like kids, do you?"

"I like kids." Mac tried to keep all defensiveness out of his tone. "I just don't like her _sister_."

"Don't have siblings, either, I assume."

Mac smiled. "Not quite."

"I always wished I had a sister." Stella looked off behind the building and smiled. "I bet I never would have seen her, but I still wish." She looked back at Mac, raising an eyebrow. "So, why're we talking about Christmas?"

"Care to come spend Christmas with us?"

"I get it." Stella grinned as she tucked a falling curl behind her ear. "You hate your wife's sister, so you're bringing me to annoy her."

"No!" Mac felt his cheeks redden and hoped that Stella would blame it on the cold. "But… if you're not doing anything… it's always nice to have a guest along, right?"

"I get it." Her grin came back. "Alright. When should I be there?"

_(With Each Passing Day)_

Mac sat on the couch that faced the front door and waited. Charlotte and James were just minutes from coming, and he had gotten used to how impeccably on time they always were, and it always made him sick.

Claire leaned onto the couch from behind and kissed the top of Mac's head. She let her chin sit there for a minute as she spoke, and Mac felt the gentle vibrations of her voice through his head. "Thanks for putting up with them."

"I applaud you for living with Charlotte for eighteen years," Mac muttered.

"Eighteen years doesn't seem that long, sometimes. I mean, I've put up with you for…" Claire pretended to count on her fingers. "Has it been eleven years already?"

Mac looked up at her. "Amazingly enough, yes."

Claire smiled and kissed him again. Mac stared her in the eye as Claire stared him right back. It went on for a minute or two, until Mac grinned and kissed her chin. Claire giggled, then leaned in, but looked up when they heard the buzzer at the door. Mac closed his eyes as Claire walked to the door.

"Hello?"

"Claire!" came the excited voice. Mac groaned from the couch. Claire threw him a look.

"I'll buzz you in." Claire hit the button, waiting before letting it go. She turned to Mac. "Be - nice," she whispered.

"I'll practice in the two minutes I have." Mac looked at his watch. "Who knows, though. They could be late by ten seconds for once."

Claire stared at him, her arms crossed. "Please, Mac, just be nice. You've always done it before. And this time you have James, and I know you like him."

"I prefer Greg. How old is he now?"

"He'd be…" Claire closed her eyes. "I think he's eleven. Anna's about eight."

Mac nodded. "Kids are innocent, you see. Your sister… isn't."

Claire shot him a dirty look as she heard a knock on the door behind her. Mac stood up as he whispered, "She isn't cute, either."

"Shut up!" Claire hissed. She turned and opened the door. "Charlotte!"

Charlotte bared no resemblance to her sister. Her hair, short and almost spiky by nature, was a dark brown color, as were her eyes. She seemed to only wear a color that matched the season. Now she wore a green sweater with red pants. Next to Claire, Charlotte looked like a giant - she was close to Mac's height, and though she was as thin as Claire, her sweater seemed to add some bulk to her.

James looked more like Claire's relative than Charlotte. His hair was a dark blonde, and he had the same green-blue and brown flecked eyes that Claire had. James' eye color never seemed to change with what he wore, but with what his wife wore. Mac always enjoyed Jim, if only because the man had enough balance to him that he didn't seem at all like Charlotte.

Their kids looked as though they could be twins if there wasn't an age difference. Both had their father's light eyes and mother's dark hair, as well as their matching smiles. They never showed their teeth, but remained polite and civil, something Mac imagined came more from their father.

Charlotte hugged Claire for a long time, talking as they grabbed each other. "Claire! It's been ages! When was the last time we saw each other? You get my birthday present? I can't believe how old you are!"

Claire smiled awkwardly over Charlotte's shoulder. "Erm. Neither can I."

Mac counted in his head their age difference. It had to be about three years and certainly no more. He smiled at Claire, then looked at James.

"Hey, Mac." James stuck out his hand, and Mac took it. "Charlotte told me you're head of the crime lab. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Mac looked down to see Greg and Anna smiling up at him. He ruffled Greg's hair and picked up Anna. "Hey there!"

"Uncle Mac!" Anna cheered as she threw her arms around his neck. "I missed you! Why'd you move out here? It's too far!"

Mac kissed her cheek. He noticed Claire's warning look to him as she hugged James. "Your Aunt Claire and I were offered nice jobs here, so we moved," he answered, giving Claire a look that said, 'What?'

"Glad to see you, Mac!"

He looked up in time to see Charlotte grab him for a hug. Mac tried to dodge her, knowing that he'd never get away from her. Claire shot him another warning look, so Mac put Anna down and returned Charlotte's hug.

"I can't believe how long it's been!" Charlotte's hug tightened.

"Neither can I."

"Last Christmas. Already seems a lifetime away, doesn't it? Well, you know how much I like seeing my sister and her husband." She grabbed at Mac's cheek, but he turned his head to get away from her. He glanced sideways at Claire, who smirked. "And you've always been such a sweet cutie. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't find you first!"

Claire's smirk turned into a grin. "Alright, let me get some drinks for you guys." She bent to be closer to Greg and Anna's level. "You guys still like hot chocolate, right?"

_(With Each Passing Day)_

"It's days like this I wish I had been shot on the job," Mac sighed as he climbed into bed. "Claire, thank you so much for picking out this apartment."

Claire huddled under the sheets, keeping them as close to her chin as she could. She looked partly offended and partly amused. "Not my fault we actually get to keep our room for once."

Mac sighed as he joined Claire in pulling up the covers. "I swear, Charlotte snores more than James."

"And how would you know that?" Claire leaned against Mac. "Don't tell me you've fallen for my sister."

"Never. It's just hard to ignore when you're in the same building."

"Well, just ignore them tonight." Claire wrapped her arms around Mac and stroked his shoulder. "Merry Christmas, darling."

Mac groaned. "Please don't say that. Anna's going to barge in any minute now, expecting her present."

"You know you still love her." Claire giggled quietly. "You love hearing her call you Uncle Mac."

Mac smiled, but didn't respond. There was always a danger that came with talking about children to Claire. She never said it out loud to him, but there was always the underlying tone - _why not us_? Mac closed his eyes and tried to remind himself of all of their reasons. _We live in a city. My job's too dangerous. What if something happened to one of us? Neither of us are ever home. Wouldn't you feel guilty about Reed?_

Claire continued to stroke his shoulder. "C'mon. You know you love Christmas. And tomorrow you actually get a guest. That'll be an interesting change. You did say Stella could come, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good." She smiled and pressed a kiss against his lips, which he returned.

"Don't start anything," Mac joked. "Now there're kids around. Remember - that's the one downside."

"That it is, Mac. That it is."


	10. The Problem

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

When the doorbell rang in the morning, Mac silently thanked God for the distraction. Claire had already had enough time that morning to show off her cooking skills, which didn't take long. For years, her motto to Mac about cooking was: "If it's dinner, I'll be the chef. If it's breakfast, a newborn could make better pancakes than I can." Within an hour of waking up and several half-hidden curses from Claire, Mac had enough sense to leave to pick up breakfast.

Mac opened the door and saw Stella standing there, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail that still looked as though it was loose. She wore a thick sweater that had several snowflakes still on the woolly fabric.

"Hey," she said, smiling nervously at Mac. "Bad time?"

"Depends. You like kids?"

Stella's smile became more confident, and Mac realized how much her face brightened up when she smiled. "Love them."

"Then you came at a perfect time."

"You have kids?" Stella raised an eyebrow, exaggerating a frown to hide her grin. "I never put you down as -"

"_I _don't." Mac motioned behind him. "Claire's sister is here. Two of the most amazing children you'll ever meet, but the most annoying mother." Mac smiled wryly. "Sorry for ruining your Christmas."

Stella laughed. "I'll always take a chatty woman over a boring Christmas, Mac."

"That's good." Mac smiled and moved out of the doorway to let her in. "Want anything?"

"No thanks." Stella raised one of her arms, showing a large bag in the crook of her arm. "Did bring presents, though. Should I put them somewhere?"

"Just follow the trail of Claire's decorations," Mac joked, leading her into the apartment. "At the end, there's a Christmas tree. You shouldn't have, though -"

"I'm a good guest." Stella raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Besides, we all know the true meaning of Christmas is in the presents."

Mac laughed. "Alright, most people can't argue with that." He shut the door after her. "I'll take them for you. Make yourself comfortable. Let me give you some advice, though…" He stopped her before they got into the living room so that they were still mostly hidden. "Don't sit near Charlotte. That's the dark-haired woman. And James is safe to sit near, but not too close. Charlotte would start talking your ear off about him. The kids are safe to sit near. Very sweet. Then Claire is always the safest bet beside me."

Stella grinned and laughed. "Is this the introduction I'm getting?"

Mac nodded. "More or less."

"Alright, alright." Stella grinned. "C'mon. Let me meet everyone the right way."

They entered into the room. Claire looked up from where she sat with Anna in her lap. She gave Stella a bright grin. "Hey!"

Stella gave her a small wave and sat down. Mac smiled when he realized that Stella had followed his advice and sat close to Claire. Claire leaned over and gave Stella a one-armed hug.

"Say hi," Claire said to Anna, who smiled and waved shyly at Stella. Stella returned the wave again, still grinning.

Mac put the bag beside the tree and sat down beside Stella. Greg moved from James' lap over to Mac, sitting beside him.

"Everyone, this is Stella." Mac motioned pointlessly to Stella.

"She works with Mac," Claire added. "You're in… narcotics, was it?"

Stella nodded. "Yeah. Been thinking about moving into the 'bigger lab' lately, though."

Mac raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Really?"

She turned to him and nodded again with a smile. "Yeah. It's always looked appealing, you know?"

Mac smiled in return.

"That's Charlotte." Claire pointed over to Charlotte, who smiled at Stella. Stella smiled in return, then glanced at Mac to give him a defiant look. Claire tried not to notice. "Her husband, James, and their kids, Greg and Anna."

James leaned forward, shaking Stella's hand. "Hey there."

As Stella replied, Mac watched the group interacting. Now, on the outside, he could see how gentle Charlotte was with strangers rather than the forceful maternity he saw from her with everyone else.

He glanced at Claire studying her face for a moment. Her eyes were concentrated on Stella and James, and Mac allowed his eyes to wander through her hair that always darkened to a brown in the winter, along her half-visible eyes, down the curve of her nose.

Claire's eyes flicked over to him. Mac apologized without words by smiling, and Claire grinned back. She flicked her eyes to the kitchen, then raised an eyebrow. "Help me in the kitchen," she said to him, then glanced back at where Stella was talking to the two kids before standing up. Mac followed quickly.

Claire beat him into the room, where she was leaned against a counter.

"You're helping me with the cooking," she said, the smile still on her face.

"For some reason I don't think that's what you mean."

"You're right."

Mac smiled and tried to peck her cheek with a kiss. Claire turned quickly, as Mac was so used to, and caught the kiss full-on.

"Thought you were worried about the kiddies." Claire smirked and kisses his neck.

"They're in the living room," Mac answered. He hugged her tight, kissing her forehead. "We're in here. Besides, I bet Charlotte's already giving them 'the talk' a hundred times."

Claire laughed quietly. "I really do worry about you loving my sister now. It's bordering obsession."

"We hurt the ones we love," Mac joked.

Claire pulled him into a long kiss, sending a warm rush through Mac as he returned it. He could feel a small smile tugging at her lips, could feel her shoulders relax in his arms. Her hair brushed against his hands, and he twirled the ends.

"Didn't think you were one for wall-sex." Claire slid her hands up Mac's chest, finally wrapped him around his shoulders.

"Who said anything about sex?" Mac reached up to the shelf above her, seeing Claire's eyes drift upward to watch his hand as he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. "I thought we were cooking."

Claire laughed again and kissed him lightly. "Alright, alright. Cooking time." She turned, and Mac let go of her. "We can keep Anna and Greg distracted later -"

"Distracted?" Mac asked, and Claire covered her mouth to stop from laughing again.

"Alright, keep them _busy_ later by having them make cookies or whatever."

"I thought that you just gave the kids their presents to keep them busy." Mac raised an eyebrow. "Unless Charlotte and Jim are able to create superhum-"

"Don't even start." Claire covered her face with a grin. "We're doing that _after_ we eat. I don't want to deal with a mess when I'm cooking, and those are _messy_." Claire pulled out a stack of plates. "Go set the table and make sure they aren't eating Stella alive, alright?"

Mac grinned and kissed the top of her head. "Alright."

He left the kitchen, plates stacked in his arms. As Mac walked along the edge of the couches where the rest were, he watched them.

Anna sat close to Stella, much like as she had with Mac earlier. Stella combed Anna's hair back slowly in her fingers, almost unconsciously. Greg remained on his father's lap, looking up at his father's face as James spoke to Stella and Charlotte.

At the sound of the first plate clinking down onto the table, Stella glanced up, looking over her shoulder, and grinned at Mac. She raised her hand as though in a wave. He could see her lean forward and whisper into Anna's ear. The girl nodded and jumped off Stella's lap, moving over to Charlotte.

Stella stood and walked over to Mac. "Need any help?"

Mac shook his head. "No thanks. I've got this." He set out the last plate and stood to face her. Stella's arms were crossed over her chest, and the smile still hadn't faded from when she first entered the apartment.

"Does Claire need any help?" she asked.

Mac laughed quietly. "It's alright, Stella. Just sit back and relax. It's Christmas."

She shifted on her feet, still smiling. Mac could see the small look she threw over her shoulder. He nodded in understanding. "They aren't all that likeable are they?"

Stella let out a small, disbelieving noise. "They're likeable - I mean, they're nice people."

"Just not your kind of nice people?" he offered when Stella fell silent.

"Exactly." She smiled shyly. "I hope that doesn't sound -"

"Not at all." Mac grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. "Maybe Claire'll rethink the rest of the holidays she's planning when she realizes this is common consent."

Stella laughed quietly again as he led her into the kitchen.

Claire glanced up as soon as they entered, a surprised look on her face. "Stella," she greeted. "Hey, Mac. What've you done this time?"

"Turns out I'm not the only one who hates your sister," he joked.

Stella's eyes widened. "I didn't -"

"It's alright," Claire sighed. "Mac hates her, too." She lowered her voice. "Neither of us can honestly figure out how she got married."

Stella laughed. Mac traded another look with Claire, and they both started to laugh. It made Mac oddly comforted, seeing the two of them having such peaceful interactions, and he couldn't help but share it.

Claire stopped suddenly, though, her eyes concentrated behind Mac. He turned quickly, curious as to what had made her pause so suddenly. Anna stood in the doorway, her pale eyebrows raised.

"Uncle Mac?" she asked, then opened her mouth to ask another question.

Mac glanced at Claire and Stella quickly, then walked over to kneel in front of the girl. "Do you like dress up?" he asked her quickly.

Anna nodded, a smile appearing on her face.

"You know, your Aunt Claire has a closet full of shoes and clothes." Mac gave Anna a smile, and she grinned. Mac turned to give Claire an apologetic look, and she raised her knife threateningly.

"Sorry," he mouthed. Mac turned back to Anna. "Race you there?"

Anna turned and ran for the bedroom. Mac stood up quickly and pressed a kiss on Claire's lips before running after Anna.

"I swear," Claire sighed, but Stella noticed her smile. "If they do anything…"

Stella laughed again. "You'll probably just get some worn-out shoes. I remember watching my neighbor's kids once. They played in my closet for a few hours, and nothing was really ruined."

Claire nodded. "True. I'm kind of hoping Mac stays on his half of the closet though." She grinned.

"A little girl in a business suit." Stella snorted. "_That's_ something I want to see."

Claire looked amused. "You'd be amazed at what Mac has in there, if all you think all he wears are business suits."

_(With Each Passing Day)_

"Claire, I _need _to take you shopping." Charlotte leaned over the table, putting a hand on Claire's. "When I saw little Anna come down in those shoes -"

"Thank you, Charlotte," Claire sighed, shutting her eyes. She chanced a look at Mac, who smiled.

Anna was already picking as her fork, her feet barely holding on a pair of black high heels. She waved her legs until they threatened the fall off.

"This looks great, Claire," Stella said quickly, glancing sideways at Mac with a smile. Mac smiled back.

"Thanks." Claire gave a pointed look to Charlotte, who raised her eyebrows and tilted her head with a mocking smile.

"I like your potatoes, Aunt Claire," Greg said through a mouth full of them. James fought with the child for a moment, trying to get him to swallow before talking.

"Thanks, Greg." Claire grinned at him. "What is it with you and potatoes?"

"He's insane about them," Charlotte sighed, wiping Anna's mouth. "Do you know what starches -"

"Potatoes are great," Mac cut in, smiling at Greg. Greg grinned and took up another forkful.

Stella laughed quietly and tried to cover her mouth. Charlotte glanced at her, and Stella sobered up instantly.

"I'll be right back," Charlotte said quickly, standing up.

They watched her leave, and Stella shifted in her seat. "I'm really sorry," she muttered, glancing down at the table. "I really didn't - Should I go?"

James grinned and put a hand on Stella's shoulder. "No, it's not your fault. Charlotte does that on an hourly basis, I swear. She'll forget everything by the time she's back."

Stella gave a strained look to Mac and Claire.

"It's alright," Claire said, starting to laugh. "Really. I hate to say this about my own sister, but Charlotte's a bit of a-"

"Bitch," Mac supplied.

Claire glared at him. "_No_," she snapped.

"Anna?" Mac asked, turning to the girl, who looked up. "Do you think I could borrow your shoes?"

Anna kicked them off, and the shoes landed in front of Mac's feet. He bent down to pick them up and waved them in Claire's face.

"Aren't these your favorite shoes?" he asked with a smile.

Claire grabbed the shoes and put them back on the ground. "Alright, she insults my cooking and shoes -"

"And your age," James added.

Claire glanced at him, then back to Stella with a smile. "She's a bit cruel, and she knows it. You didn't do anything wrong, Stella."

Stella glanced at the door Charlotte had left through. "Still, I -"

James stood up. "I'll talk to her. I love her, but she's overreacted before."

"Besides, we all know I made the insult," Mac added. Claire shot him another look.

"Mac," she said slowly, warning in her voice.

"I know." Mac stood up as James left, but Claire grabbed his arm. She stood instead, moving over to the side of the table where Anna and Greg were.

"I have an idea." She put a hand on each of their shoulders, smiling. Mac tried to stop the smile starting on his lips. Claire always looked like a true mother when she did that, and it honestly impressed him how quickly she could control children. "In the kitchen, there's a stack of books with some cookie recipes. Both of you agree on one and come back and tell me so that we can make them, alright?"

Both nodded quickly, and Greg jumped out of his chair before his sister could. They left the room at high-speed, almost shouting out their suggestions.

Claire rounded the table with a sigh, sitting in her seat again.

"Now that they're out of the way…" Mac started for her.

"Don't even start." Claire crossed her arms and leaned back. "First off, Stella… Please, please, please don't feel bad about any of this, alright? Mac's right - it was his fault." She turned to him, pointing a warning finger at him. "Don't start talking, either. I know what you're going to say."

Mac raised his hands in defeat.

"Please just give my sister a second chance. She'll be over her fit in an hour."

"It's alright." Stella played with the buttons on her shirt, still looking awkward and out of place. "It really is. Besides, I should be heading back soon -"

Claire sighed as she covered her hand with her hands. "Stella, I'm so sorry about all of this. You can stay longer if you don't have any other plans today. I hope we can spend more time together when my sister is -"

"Far, far away," Mac finished. Claire didn't bother to look at him.

"I'm sorry," Claire repeated. Mac thought she looked like a defeated homemaker for a moment, the type to spend a month planning her party only to realize she forgot to cook the turkey. "I'll be right back. Need to make sure the kids aren't breaking anything."

She stood up and left into the kitchen quickly, where Mac and Stella couldn't see her.

Mac laughed quietly. "We're all a little mad here, I suppose."

Stella wrung her hands nervously, then placed them, palms down, on the table as though to relax herself. "Again, Mac, I can't believe I made an ass of myself."

"Better be careful using that word around Claire." Mac smile and raised his eyebrows. "She's going insane because of her family. I say we should get rid of them."

Stella laughed, and it sounded calmer than before. "You know, Mac, I think I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"Well…" Mac could almost see Stella shrink back into some dark corner of herself, shy and awkward once more. "Today, everyone's been running around, trying to get everything done. And you've been… just… relaxed, I guess. Even in the office, even if you're not exactly the same, you're always level-headed, I suppose."

"Sometimes you just have to learn to be that." Mac shrugged.

Stella leaned in and kissed him. It took Mac a second to think to fight her.

When he pulled away quickly, surprised and feeling numb and surprised, he looked straight in the direction of the kitchen.

Claire stood in the doorway, completely still as though frozen into a block of ice, and staring just behind the two. Mac felt a cold wave of numbness spread from his mouth into his chest. He wanted to shiver it off, but knew that nothing would help in the long run.

"Fuck," Stella whispered, so low that Mac wasn't sure if he had heard it. She stood up quickly, standing opposite Claire. They looked strange there - Claire the shorter of the figures, but her spine painfully straight while Stella bent slightly, raising her hands in defense.

"I'm so sorry, Claire," Stella said, and Mac could tell from her voice that she felt the same freezing he did. "I didn't mean -"

Claire shook her head, finally seeming to focus. "It's alright," she said softly, and Mac couldn't remember the last time he heard her voice like that. She sounded reassuring, as thought she had no plans to even mention this again.

"I'm going to go," Stella said, running a hand through a hair and turning slightly on the spot. She seemed lost, and Mac understood the feeling. "I'm sorry." She didn't look either in the eye. "Merry Christmas."

Stella turned and left as quickly as possible. The door closed almost silently behind her.

Claire looked at Mac. He finally noticed that she was leaned against the wall.

"I always told myself that… that I wouldn't mind if I found out my husband was cheating on me, just as long as he was honest." She shook her head when Mac started talking. "I know, just a kiss. The usual excuses people get. It still counts, Mac. I always told myself I would never mind that. I've been rebellious, I've cheated on a boyfriend. I'd be a hypocrite to get angry and leave you." She crossed her arms tightly. "I just didn't know it felt like this."

Mac stood up quickly, moving closer to her. "Claire -"

"No." Claire turned slightly. Mac felt his heart thud faster and faster. He wanted to reach out to her, tell her it was a stupid mistake, but he knew that it couldn't do anything.

"Claire, I swear I didn't know what was going on. She kissed me, and I didn't realize what was happening -"

"I know." Claire nodded slowly, refusing to meet his eyes. "I understand it."

"Then why -?" Mac forced himself to stop.

Claire gave him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It still hurt like hell, Mac. How would you feel if you walked in on me with someone?"

"I have." Mac knew he would regret it, but there was too much that needed to be said. "Practically, having to meet you when you had a son."

"That's not the same."

"It is!" Mac wanted to find a point to be made, but when he looked at Claire, he remembered what she looked like when they first met. Just out of the strains of pregnancy, but didn't look it. Hell, he hadn't been able to tell until she told him, and it still surprised him. "It's like walking into a relationship and finding out you already have a son!"

"Reed's not yours," Claire answered venomously, and Mac took a step back. She rubbed her arms as though to keep warm, then looked Mac in the eyes. She smiled softly. "Look, Mac, I'm going to take a walk. I don't know if I'll be home tonight. Maybe." She put a hand to his cheek. The old, familiar Claire. "Before I go, I want you to know I love you. I've never stopped loving you, and I know I won't ever stop."

Claire started to walk away, following Stella's shameful steps, and Mac couldn't stop himself from saying one last thing. He knew he wouldn't like the answer even as he thought over his words.

"Why're you going, then?"

Claire paused, giving him one last smile. This time, it was depressed and shamed and pitiful. "To make sure," she answered, and was gone.


	11. They Build Buildings

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

Mac tugged at the pillow beside him, trying to move it so that he didn't notice its emptiness so much. He gave up and moved the blanket to cover it. The lump was still lonely-looking, but at least it didn't bother him as much.

He mentally cursed himself over and over, telling himself that _tomorrow_ he'd find Claire, apologize again, do whatever it took to make her forget. _Today_ had already passed painfully enough, leading away Claire and her sister and the rest of them.

_She's not forgetting_, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut so that light starbursts appeared on the backs of his eyelids.

His mind created an image, one that he was trying to avoid. He'd bump into Stella at work. She'd make no comment, try not to mention anything as she passed over a folder on the latest case. Mac would grab her arms, tell her to stay out of his life, to stop anything else like this from happening. And Claire would still be angry at him.

There was the unmistakable sound of a key in the keyhole and the door opening. Mac sat up, listening closely as the door opened. He looked at the luminous alarm clock by the bed: close to three in the morning.

Once Claire's footsteps got closer to the bedroom, Mac leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes. Part of him silently hoped that if he tried to look asleep, there'd be a chance that she wouldn't leave again, whether just outside the bedroom or back outside.

Her footsteps were closer, and he could feel her hair on his neck as she kissed his forehead. Mac resisted the urge to touch her, to tell her to go to sleep.

"Sorry," she whispered to him. Her voice sounded broken and high, and he could guess what she spent that walk doing.

Once Claire started to move again, Mac realized that she wasn't planning to stay in the room with him any longer. He sat up, not caring that it made his feigned sleep look fake.

"Claire."

She stopped in the doorway, but didn't look at him. When he hesitated, she turned. She only wore her sweater from earlier, and Mac realized that she hadn't taken a coat when she left. Flecks of snow dotted Claire's hair, and she shivered lightly.

"Take the bed." Mac stood up, not bothering to take a pillow or blanket. Claire didn't move, so he carefully walked closer to her, standing in the doorway beside her.

Claire didn't react at all. Mac leaned forward, keeping his movements slow as he hugged her. She shivered harder, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was his fault. When Claire wrapped her arms around him, holding him painfully tight, he knew that it wasn't.

"I love you," he whispered, rubbing her back. Claire didn't answer, but sniffed instead. Mac stared at the doorframe for a minute, trying to think of something to do. There wasn't a point to impressing her at this point, so Mac carefully let go of her and pushed her in the direction of the bed.

"Get some sleep." He walked with her, even those few feet, then watched her as she crawled into bed, jeans, shoes, and all.

"Mac -"

He shook his head. There were still tears in her eyes, and he didn't want to concentrate on them. "In the morning, alright?" Mac didn't let Claire answer, but kissed her cheek. "We'll talk in the morning. Right now… get some sleep."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." Mac kissed her again on the forehead, then left the room. He closed the door partway as he left, then turned to face the couch. It didn't look appealing.

Mac settled onto the couch, bending his legs closer to his chest not to save room, but to comfort himself. It was the same as with the pillow, he noticed. Too many years had made him too used to a familiar warmth.

_(With Each Passing Day)_

When Mac woke up, - or rather, thought he couldn't sit still any longer - he looked around for a distraction. Claire couldn't be up yet, not if she got in that late. It wouldn't be smart to wake her, either.

Mac stood up and picked up his coat from the coat rack. Time to think. That's what he needed. And he couldn't think in _here_, not in an apartment that felt too crowded now. Maybe outside. He couldn't tell if it was still snowing. Maybe it would be better if it still were. When _didn't_ it snow just after Christmas?

The hall outside was empty. Mac walked down it slowly, glancing at each door as he passed. He never noticed how many of the locks had key scratches on them. It was as though no one could ever see exactly where their key was headed or as though every lock had been broken into dozens of times.

There was snow on the sill of a window at the end of the hall. It didn't look as though it was moving, and it had a dull color to it. The snow had to have stopped the night before.

He approached the window, looking down at the street below. People were out, most likely trying to catch the stores at the cheapest time of the year. The snow was around their ankles in some parts and beaten down under feet and tires in others.

A door opened behind Mac. He didn't bother to turn.

"I hope you're not leaving on me," came Claire's voice.

When Mac turned around, he saw her there, still dressed as she had been the night before. Her hair was messy, though, and even from a distance, she looked tired.

_That makes two of us_, Mac thought crudely and smiled in his head.

"What did you decide?" he asked instead.

"Come on back." Claire's arms were crossed, and he couldn't help but let her tired eyes make the decision for him. Her words weren't an answer, and he knew that. There would be more to discuss inside, under the cover of walls, even if the walls really did have ears.

He walked slowly, allowing Claire time to sit on the couch by the time he locked the door after himself. Her arms were still crossed, and she looked a bit lost and confused. He studied her face as he sat down, noticing how she didn't look at him.

He wanted to ask her again, but remained silent.

She answered his question without further prompting. "You know as well as anyone else in the world that no one can summarize emotions in a word or a sentence or even a page sometimes. So I'm not answering that question, exactly. In short, I've decided I do love you. I never lied to you when I said I'll always love you."

"Claire -"

"No." She raised her hand slightly. Claire still didn't meet his eyes. "Mac, just give me a minute or two, and I swear I'll listen to you without a word. I just need to get this off my chest."

He watched her as she seemed to struggle for words. She started to meet his eyes, just seconds at a time, until she started talking with her eyes boring into him.

"I've known you for years, Mac. What I always found funny about you was how I never saw you flirt." Mac opened his mouth, but Claire shook her head. "Maybe I'm starting this wrong. I'll start later." She brushed back her hair. "You came home one day, months ago. You were late, like usual. That's the first problem, Mac."

"Claire." Mac shook his head slowly. "That isn't what this is about."

"It is." There were tears starting in Claire's eyes, and Mac forced himself to look away. "This isn't about Stella. It never was."

"When did this start, than?" Mac asked sharply. "How long have you been thinking this over?"

She didn't answer for a moment. "A long time," she finally said. "About since when we moved here. Haven't you noticed anything?"

"What?"

"Look at it this way." Claire stared him down again with her wet eyes, and Mac felt a sudden rush of guilt. "We wake up in the morning, wish the other a good day, head to work. I come home, wait a couple damn hours for you, and then you come home. We have dinner, make small talk about our days, then go to sleep. Before -"

"Are you blaming this on my moving here?" Mac cut in, disbelieving. "Honestly, Claire. I would have thought that you, of everyone -"

"That I what?" Her voice was louder now, and he could see that she wasn't just upset now. "What, Mac? Did you think that I would be perfectly fine moving like that? Did you think that I would manage to fit so seamlessly into this city like _perfect_, _saintly_ cop Mac?"

"I thought you'd at least be happy for me!"

His head hurt already, and his throat made him feel as though he had screamed the last few words. He watched her, saw each small part of Claire fall and build itself up. He didn't want this, not now, not ever.

"I was happy for you!" Claire hit her knee with a balled-up fist. "Jesus Christ, Mac, I was happy for you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed to this. I couldn't wait for you to get that goddamn letter!" She hit her knee again. "My only point is that we've changed. I'm not blaming your job, I'm not blaming mine. I'm only saying that we changed the time we came here, and it isn't for the better. And don't offer to move back because I know that won't change anything."

"Claire -"

"You said you'd let me finish." Her voice held its same angry tone, but she was quiet once more. "I know you, Mac. When I married you, I knew I was taking all of you, not just the parts I like. I know that work has always and will always go first for you. I know that you would spend the entire night working if you had to, and I've seen you do it." Claire interlocked her fingers behind her head so that she faced her lap. "That doesn't bother me. I understand. I just don't like having to see you work yourself to death, and I don't like having to sacrifice time together like that."

"We both knew what hours would be -"

"I _know_," she repeated. "You can't blame me for not liking it, though. And now…" Claire shook her head. "That one night, you came home and started talking about Stella."

"You asked about her."

"It's called making a stab at conversation!" Claire shook her head again. "You came home from work late and just got into bed. I'm sorry if I like talking to you."

"We talk everyday."

"About what? Buildings? The new statue in the park? When was the last time we had a real conversation? About how much we've always wanted to go to France or about -"

"We've talked about children," Mac answered evenly. "And I think you're forgetting my side of this story."

"I know what your side is. And don't blame my son for any of this."

"I was going to."

Claire watched him for a moment as though expecting Mac to add something. When he didn't, she continued. "Back to the original topic. I walked in on you and your coworker. And I know you're going to say that _she_ started it, and I know you're going to say you didn't want to, you didn't mean to, all of that."

"That's exactly -"

"I don't believe you."

Claire's word bit into Mac painfully. How could she not believe him? He opened his mouth, wanting to find something to say to prove himself right, but nothing came out. He had been complimenting her, had been studying her. There was no point to make himself innocent, and nothing he could offer to Claire.

"Mac." Claire sighed. "I've already told you my feelings about her. I think she's… she's a good girl, smart, pretty. I agree with everything you've said. That night, you had said I was jealous, and I said there was nothing between you to be jealous of."

"You're jealous now."

"Yes." Mac felt his jaw freeze again, a feeling that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. "Now that I'm paying attention, there is something between the two of you. I know that she loves you, and you love her. I don't mean infidelity, but some sort of love. She's tied in with your work, and you love everything that goes with it." Claire laughed weakly. "I know how you work, Mac. She's like evidence to you, and you have to devote yourself to it instead of your own life."

_(With Each Passing Day)_

Mac tapped at the keys on his computer. Work had renewed itself back into his schedule with the end of the holidays, and his argument with Claire had not gone unforgotten. He had spent the night before on the couch - not a punishment from Claire, but rather from himself. He knew that trying to get into the same bed with Claire would have led to another argument, and he didn't know if he was ready for it yet.

Something still bothered him beyond the conversation. He hadn't been able to find a way to defend himself against her accusation about Stella. What was it that -

"Mac?"

He recognized Stella's voice and didn't look up. He didn't want to let himself realize he could tell her mood from her tone. "Stella. You have the tox reports for the case?"

"No, but -"

"I need to finish this." Mac made a slight nodding to the computer, still not looking at her. Her frown was palpable, but he tried to ignore it.

"Can't I talk to you for a minute?"

He continued to type. Stella approached him, and Mac could hear her footsteps and see her from the corner of his eye. She slammed a paper on his desk.

"Brought up the autopsy from the morgue for you. Enjoy."

Mac felt his fingers freeze over the letters on the keyboard. Her tone was the same as Claire's had been, and Stella hadn't moved away.

"Can we talk now?"

"Alright." Mac still didn't look up, though he stopped typing. "Here's what I have to say: I don't want to talk right now. Find me another time if you want to talk. For now, please don't talk to me, don't talk to my wife, and don't come back in here unless it's for work."

Stella remained silent for a moment, and when she spoke, it was still in the same angry tone Claire used. "I had come in here to apologize again and offer to talk to Claire to explain this. I change my mind though. I hope you rot for being such a bastard."

"Get the hell out of my office," Mac snapped.

Her heels clicked as she walked out of the office, and the glass door slammed so hard that Mac thought it would shatter. He _hoped_ it would shatter, offer him some sort of distraction for a minute. When it didn't, he stood up and headed for the bathroom. He kept his steps slow at first, letting Stella's retreating form take the lead. Once she was out of sight and he was in the large hallway, he hurried until he reached the bleak, grey door.

Mac closed it behind himself. He was tempted to lock it, but he knew that would cause more trouble than he already had to deal with.

At the sink, Mac turned on the faucet and dipped his cupped hands under, letting them fill with water. He let it drop back into the basin with a splash. The water wrapped itself around the white sides of the bowl, circling and dropping into the grey pipes with a gargle.

He studied his reflection. He looked tired, more than before, and he wasn't smiling.

"I've got to make this right," he whispered to his reflection, seeing the frowning lips barely move to form the words. He waited for the reflection to tell him that he couldn't. It didn't. "I've got to make this right," he repeated, rubbing his forehead with a wet hand. It left a few droplets of water in his hair.

The door opened, and one of the younger detectives walked in. Mac remembered his name as Edward, something Stella had told him on his first day.

_Don't think about that. You're making things right, and this isn't helping._

"Hey, Mister Taylor," Edward said as he headed for a stall. "Labs looks nice now that it's been rebuilt, huh?"

Mac nodded quickly. "Yeah, a lot nicer."

"How're you?" Edward asked. "Noticed you and Bonasera seemed to be -"

"Just discussing results," Mac cut in. There wasn't any room for a personal life, not in a lab crowded with science majors and cops, not in this job.

Maybe Claire had been right about him.


	12. Mister and Missus, Ma'am

**With Each Passing Day**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

The air in Mac's office seemed restive in itself, a further limb of his own attitude. As he continued typing, he found himself pausing every paragraph or so. Images of both Claire and Stella's faces kept swimming through his mind, and there didn't seem to be a way to stop himself from worrying over the two.

Outside of the glass walls, Stella walked across the hall into the break room. Mac glanced at his clock. Noon had just passed. Since when did work go by that slow?

He left his office after a second of consideration, following Stella and another detective into the break room. Stella and the other - Mac fought to remember her as Rachel - stood by the table, just beside the window. They seemed to be discussing an odd mixture of recent results on a case and their plans for New Years.

Stella looked up only when Mac started depositing coins into the machine for a drink. He couldn't see her face from where he stood, but she suddenly fell silent.

Mac finally turned to face her, and Stella turned back to Rachel. As she opened her mouth to continue talking, Mac cut in, "Stella. A word in my office."

She paused, and though Mac could only see half of her face now, it was obvious that she sighed and looked more annoyed than before.

"Not right now," she answered shortly.

"I need to talk to you." Mac didn't know how much force it would take to get Stella inside his office. He knew he'd have to go on until she folded, though. Knowing Stella, it would take a few threats and even more hours.

"Anything you need to say can be said here, can't it?" Stella finally turned, facing him, her hands on the table behind her.

"Alright." Mac nodded slowly, glancing sideways at Rachel. The blonde-haired girl looked between him and Stella, seeming confused. It was obvious she wanted to leave the room as quickly as possible, get out of what seemed to be a battlefield, but Rachel stayed put, merely shrinking away. He looked back at Stella, seeing her stand there as before, leaned against the table. He licked his lips as he tried to think of something to say. "You're fired, Stella."

Stella's eyes widened slightly, and she shook her head. "No, I'm not."

Mac didn't answer. Rachel muttered something about seeing Stella later, then left the room as quickly as she could without running.

Stella shook her head again, and Mac started to feel back about his lie. It was for a good purpose, he tried to tell himself, though he wasn't sure how long it would last. Stella seemed angrier than before. "Why?" she asked after a moment.

"You're not." Stella visibly straightened, looking relieved and disbelieving. "You just came close to it, though. When I say we're talking in my office, that's what you do. We don't wait a minute, we don't say no. You just follow me."

"What the hell was that for?" Stella asked loudly.

"A word in my office," Mac repeated.

"No!" Stella shook her head harder this time, still seeming dazed and confused. "You tell me I'm _fired_ so that I'll talk to you?"

"That's what happens when you don't listen the first time." Mac could feel the downhill slope the conversation was sinking into, but couldn't bring himself to stop it. "Do I have to baby you all the way there or are you coming?"

"Do I have to repeat myself? Anything you have to say to me can be said right here."

Mac bent down to pick up the soda bottle that had fallen from the machine long before. He didn't open it. He wanted to throw it at Stella, but his reflection in the bathroom mirror came back to him. _I've got to make this right._

"I'm sorry." _One step at a time. Got to make things right again._ Mac toyed with the cap of his drink. "I'm really sorry, Stella."

She didn't answer, but Mac could tell that she expected more.

"Everything - all of these fights - they're my fault. If I hadn't…" He closed his eyes. There were small shooting stars behind his eyelids that were easier to look at than Stella's expression. "I've been so distracted lately, and I can't -" _Even think of a reason for my wife to stay with me._ "I can't concentrate on anything long enough to make it right."

When he opened his eyes, he could see that Stella's jaw had tightened. He couldn't tell if she was angry or annoyed or just thinking, but the expression made him wary.

"I'm not asking for you to forgive me. I was harsh back th- well, more than once today. I'm just asking for you to realize that I'm not myself lately."

Stella leaned against the table again, and her position wasn't as defensive as before. She remained silent, and the silence was deafening for a long time. The soda machine behind Mac started to provide white noise as it became humming, and Stella gave him a half-smile.

"What's been going on?" she asked as she took a seat at the table in one of the high stools.

Mac stared at her. What's been going on? He spent the last two days hating her as she hated him, and she could just sit down and start a normal conversation? He carefully took a seat, facing Stella.

"Lots of things," he said, smiling.

Stella smiled back, though she looked sad. It looked pitying instead. "I know it's none of my business, but is it anything with Claire?"

Mac laughed. "If it were just Claire, none of this would be happening. I've been with Claire long enough to" - _deal with her?_ - "understands her. It's everything _and_ Claire." Mac slouched forward, hitting his elbows against the table and running his fingers through his short hair.

"Who died?" Stella asked, and Mac could tell that she was attempting a joke.

"My father," he answered without thinking.

When Stella froze, her mouth forming an 'o' of understanding and shame, Mac realized what he had said. He still couldn't forget that day in the hospital, nor his father's desperate and unending pleas to kill him. Every argument with Claire brought it to the forefront of his mind, lingering there like an unwanted memory that seemed out of place. _And if you hadn't gone, you'd still be arguing with her about that. And because you went, you'll remember that until the day you die. Should have pulled the damn plug, maybe then you wouldn't have to -_

"I'm sorry," Stella said after a moment's recovery. Mac could see embarrassment behind her bright green eyes. "I didn't mean to -"

Mac shut his eyes again. As before, it was easier to talk to the personified shooting stars in his eyelids rather than Stella. They winked at him happily, letting him know that things were finally starting to look up, even if they did lead him on to morbid subjects.

"Don't apologize."

Stella remained silent, and Mac could feel her watching him. When he opened his eyes, she was. Her mouth twitched at the side as she looked for words. "Look, Mac, I really didn't mean to say that." She hesitated again. "What was he like?"

"He wasn't anything spectacular, if that's what you're asking." Mac looked around the break room for a minute. How hadn't be realized how dark it was in here before? He stood up and smiled. "Get back to work, Stella."

_(With Each Passing Day)_

The city looked too big standing there, but Claire dealt with it. Skyscrapers surrounded her, but they didn't cause the same kind of claustrophobia they did at first. Damnit, it had spent her whole life in cities. Why did this one feel so bad?

The doors behind her opened and closed, and Claire stepped forward to get away from them. The surge of people seemed to thin out the further she was from the building she worked in. By the time she made her way down a block to where a cluster waited for the 'don't walk' sign to grant them permission to move did she feel as though she had room to move.

Another block, and Claire saw a small deli. She tilted her head at it, seeing the line that stretched out of the small store and onto the sidewalk, yet there were only about six people in line. One of them was a little girl, dark-haired and wide-eyed, who was old enough to now suck her thumb, but too young to be able to leave the comfort, thus leaving her in a state of perpetual thumb-sucking and self-denial. Claire smiled at the girl, whose lips threatened to turn up into a smile, but the girl looked away, back at her father who held her by the hand.

Next to the deli was a coffee shop. Claire walked towards it, concentrating on the warm steam she could see rise from one of the paper cups a man inside held. The wind whipped at her jacket, and Claire buttoned it before walking inside. There was no line. She glanced at the people sitting at small tables as she approached the register.

A woman behind the counter wore a green apron and raised her eyebrows with Claire arrived. "What can I get you?"

Claire read through the names of the coffees on the white board behind the woman and sighed. "Could I just get something strong?

She nodded as she pulled out a cup and turned to the counter behind her. "You look like an Irish Coffee kinda woman."

Smiling, Claire nodded. "That sounds about right today." Claire looked around, seeing the faces buried in newspapers and tabloids, others focused on books, and one woman who studied a ring on her finger carefully. Claire took a seat at the tall table behind the woman with the ring. She could watch the woman from back there, just long enough to understand the woman's expressions. She had a reddish-brown shade of hair, cut short so that Claire automatically thought _masculine_ when she saw the girl. She couldn't have been older than twenty, and Claire knew that she was taking an engagement ring out on a test drive. The diamond was large enough to tell her _I love you_, but not large enough to say _Not for long._

"Coffee's done," called the woman from behind the counter. Claire nodded and walked over to grab the steaming cup. The bell over the door rang as another person walked in, and Claire headed back to her seat.

"Claire!"

She looked up from her coffee. Mac stood in the doorway, smiling at her. Claire raised a hand in greeting, and Mac walked over to her table.

"I came to pick you up after work, but I didn't see you. Someone said you came over this way." Mac spoke quickly as he sat down opposite her.

Claire nodded. "Yeah. I was going to take the subway. Didn't know you were coming." She examined her coffee and almost smelt the light hint of alcohol in it. "Want a drink?"

"No thanks." Mac studied her closely, his expression neutral. Claire looked back at him, then took a sip of her drink. "Want to head out for dinner tonight?"

"I was think of just -"

"That wasn't really a question." Mac smiled and reached across the table, putting his hand on hers. Claire wanted to take hers back, but she left it still. "Please."

Claire had fallen in love with Mac's eyes first. She wasn't any believer in eyes being the window to the soul, not when so many eyes looked the same with different minds behind those eyes, but there was something _Mac-like_ about Mac's eyes. She didn't concentrate on them until they were already married. It was standing on the alter, just after their first kiss as _Mister and Missus Taylor, that's us ma'am_ did she start to notice it.

And now he watched her closely, his eyes saying a million words that she knew he'd never chance to say out loud. Mac was never a man of words, and he had to learn to let everything else speak for him.

They pleaded with her, reasoned with her, told her that life is one mistake after another. And she could believe them.

"Fine," she answered. "Where're we going?"

"Still need to pick where." Mac looked at the table as he played with her fingers. "Want to go find somewhere?"

Claire smiled as she stood, still holding the warm cup of coffee. Mac's eyes really would need to say everything for him since she knew dinner would not include any sort of apology, not after their last conversation. Maybe _conversation_ wasn't the word she wanted to use for it since conversations never gave her a guilty feeling in her stomach or made her want to vomit so many times in one day. _Conversations _never stopped her from working or gave her headaches that didn't give up for hours on end. Nor did _conversations_ give her nightmares again and again and again.

Nightmares. Claire couldn't stand them in her sleep. As a child, nightmares were bodies chasing her, which changed to guns against her head as she aged. Mac had chased off those nightmares, had introduced them into her daily life long enough that she couldn't find a way to be scared of them, at least not scared in the same way. Now nightmares were missing people that she knew, flames that disrupted peaceful days, and the sudden jumpy attacks that no one could see coming.

He opened the car door for her, and Claire slid into her seat. The guilty feeling was intensified once Mac sat next to her, warming up the car. It was amazing how winter's freezing air managed to slip into the engine so quickly.

"Claire -" Mac started, letting his hand slide off of the key.

She knew exactly what he was going to say. Claire leaned into Mac, kissing him long and sweet and slow until he kissed her back.

_(With Each Passing Day)_

Claire let a sigh pass over her as she relaxed on the bed. Her body was sweaty and overworked and sore, but it was a relieved feeling. She smiled to herself, still feeling the momentum and pressure of sex and Mac's hands on her and her own hands on him. Mac's company had always been enough for her to love him and stay with him, but she had to admit that, at night, there was _plenty_ more to Mac.

The clock said ten, but it felt so much earlier for the first time in days. Mac was already up, finding their clothes that had been torn off as they had made their way to the bed. She craned her neck enough to barely see him and laughed. _Plenty_ more to Mac, indeed. He looked awkward, half-naked on the edge of their bed, struggling to find some cover. Claire sat up, holding the covers close to her naked chest and laughed harder.

"What's so funny?" Mac asked, glancing at her. He started to put his shirt on.

She tried to stop laughing long enough to tell him, but the laughs wouldn't stop, and she didn't have an answer.

Mac smiled and moved to lie beside her, propped on his elbows. "Alright, then." He leaned down to kiss her, and Claire tried to kiss him back. Once she felt another snort of laughter, she pulled away.

"What's going on?" he asked, starting to laugh himself.

Claire started to understand the answer herself. _We get over each other so easily. How do we manage to fight for two days and just be fine? We're weird people, and it's hilarious._ The words wouldn't form in her mouth, though, and she let herself continue laughing.


End file.
